False Dawn
by Lord Valentai
Summary: Before KOTOR was the Mandalore Wars. This is the story of two very familiar characters; it starts twenty years before the attack on the Endar Spire. This is my interpretation of the events leading up to the start of the game. Updated 16th Feb 05
1. Chapter 1

Star Wars; Knights of the Old Republic.

False Dawn.

Disclaimer; all concepts that are not mine belong to their respective owners. I own original characters and situations but nothing more.

This story is set before Knights of the Old Republic, before even the Mandalorian Wars. It goes from a time about twenty years before the game up until a few days before it starts. More than that, this is the story of two men, both the same age, a Jedi and a soldier. Both men that are better known for what is to come later on. They are not related, they only meet three times in the same place and yet this is their story.

One thing I refuse to follow canon on is the Republic uniforms. I refuse to have my character looking like clowns. They wear dark blue or green and that is it. You cannot accuse me of not warning you that I have made this change.

Measurements; despite the fact I use and prefer metric measurements, I am using Imperial (American) measures in this story. It might not be canon but the aim is to make the story as easy to read as possible. Everybody understands what a mile and an inch is, even if not the specifics, I stand by this decision.

As hardly needs to be told, this is my version of the story, readers will doubtless disagree with parts of it, I accept this. Any comments, suggestions or reviews are welcome.

And I would like especially to thank Prisoner24601 for her continued support and for beta reading my piece. Making order out of chaos is not easy but she has managed.

Thanks also to Coruscant Publishing for various technical SW info pieces. As I have said, I am a bit ignorant about such things and her help was appreciated.

Book I – Ignorance and Wisdom.

Chapter 1

Revan stood in an open room looking over the endless city of Coruscant, his hands clasped behind his back and his legs apart. Coruscant, the heart of the galaxy and crown jewel of the Republic. A planet so covered in buildings that the surface of the city was an artificial tangle of twisted stone and metal, a hell where people lived in the millions. On the highest peaks however, the richer, more fortunate people lived, neither concerned nor caring for those they lived below. To them, the sun was always visible in the day, no buildings blocked out the stars at night and nothing disturbed their sleep. Coruscant was capital of the Republic, symbolising everything it stood for in more ways than one. Across the surface of the planet were various sections designated by their importance and wealth, in the centre of it all was Republic Square, the centre of the web of galactic events. Near each other, in close proximity was the Senate, the Office of the Chancellor, and the Headquarters of the Republic Military. And then there was the Jedi Temple, the Jedi, the Order that claimed to be the guardians of peace and justice in the Republic. There were many common people that would dispute this claim and many in the Republic Military who would smile at the perfidy of the suggestion. The Jedi were essentially independent from the Republic, yet linked irrevocably to their fate. Neither the Republic nor the Jedi could survive without the other, a symbiotic relationship which had often borne fruit in the past.

Just twenty years before, the Republic had allied with the Jedi and defeated the first incursion of the Sith in centuries, the lightsiders instrumental in the defeat of Exar Kun. Now, the Jedi were still recovering from the shock of that war, the defections and losses had shaken them, the Republic had expanded so that the two groups were drifting apart. Many predicted that one day this would come to a head, as yet, no opportunity had arisen. The galaxy is a large realm however, and shadows can hide in even the smallest corners.

The Jedi temple, for being a mere two decades old was still a magnificent sight. Built in thanks by the people of the Republic, it was impressive, imposing and excessive. Great spires near a half mile high formed the points of a compass around the temple, lights burning from their peaks even in the brightest of days. It was the centre which was the most impressive though, a wide base near a half dozen miles across, surmounted by high walls and modern defences. One did not simply walk to the temple; it was alone on a wide pedestal, apart from the city around, a security measure taken by all the largest buildings in the capital.

The temple itself was a tall, strange mixture of ziggurat and conventional building, a tall series of buildings around a massive step pyramid beneath a tower of white. The temple was a self contained city, having its own supplies of food, power and of course, defence.

In an open room far above the surface of this platform, there stood a person. The room was airy and open, allowing the air and light easy access without causing discomfit. Revan stood unmoving, staring at the endless city to the distant horizon, his face hidden by a plain brown robe. He did not even turn as the door opened to announce another Jedi onto the roof.

"I knew you would be here. Somehow, I could sense you would come here to be alone." The speaker was a woman of about thirty, good looking and compassionate. Brown hair framed her face which sparkled from the deep blue eyes set therein; her skin was tanned and hardened by injury and experience.

"It is the one place that I feel like I own Master. Nobody comes up here, not anymore. I just wanted to be alone," the voice was masculine, the tone blank. It was as though all the emotion it possessed had been drawn from it, the sadness was still undeniable though. The woman could feel his emotions warring inside him. Like volcano, the placid appearance hid a broiling and churning mass within.

"You did the right thing my student, I know what it is you suffer, and I have had to deal with it. For once, I will understand if you want to let your emotions out."

The man turned to her and shook his head, "would that help?"

"Containing your anger will only make it build, only lead to the darkside."

"But you and I both know Master that I could do nothing about it. Being angry and resentful will not bring them back, I have my own life to lead, that is something I must do. I will not bear the weight of the dead; their memory is enough for me."

The Jedi Knight who was the young man's mentor smiled at him gently, "you are mature beyond your time Revan. I know a dozen Jedi of your age alone who would have lost their control in this instance."

Revan pushed back his hood, revealing a handsome face disrupted by red eyes; he had been weeping and trying to hide the fact. Beyond that, he had crystal blue eyes, short black hair, ramrod straight and a quick smile. "That, Master is why I feel alone in this place. They are dead but as I said, I cannot bring them back."

Jedi Knight Mirar Levarne had expected worse, there were few people at the age of seventeen who could take the news of their parent's death so well. She supposed however, that there were few enough people of any age like Siandar Morantine, Revan as he preferred. Revan's parents were dead, killed in an unspecified accident on the fringes of space; they had been merchants, running a small business in dangerous places. It had been no thug's knife that had ended their trade; just a malfunctioning hyperdrive component had thrown them into the clutches of a quasar's gravity. The convoy had confirmed the destruction of the ship, the message taken to the only family, Revan the Apprentice Jedi.

"Are you going to be alright?" Mirar asked him, laying a gentle arm onto his shoulder. He already was the same height as her, already six feet tall.

"I can't see the future Mirar; I will work to make sure it doesn't effect me." The Jedi Knight hid her frown at the use of her name; it was not something that bothered her. Not when they were alone anyway.

The Jedi smiled reassuringly, waved her student on, "you will be ready soon. Only the end of your education and then the true challenges will lie before you."

"I shall study to be deserving of your praise Master," he said grimly as the two reached the stairway leading down into the heart of the temple.

"It is near dusk, you should go my student, be with me tomorrow at dawn."

"I shall be there Master," Revan said and strode from the room.

Mirar Levarne watched him go; he was perhaps the most gifted of the Apprentices of his age. His dedication, his stubbornness surpassed even his natural skills as a Force user. She was proud to have been made the Master of a boy such as him, although he was barely a boy anymore. He would be eighteen in just two weeks; she had no doubt that he would pass his final tests beginning in three days time.

"I see your Apprentice has taken the loss well," a calm voice intoned from behind her.

Caught in her own thoughts, Mirar was startled, turning to face her old Master. Nobody really knew how old the man was, he had looked the same even twenty years before when he had taken Mirar as a Padawan. In appearance he looked like a normal man, shoulder length white hair, grey coloured eyes and an exceptionally calm and patient demeanour. According to the records she had read, Master Aetius Perinard had been a Jedi for nearly ninety years, she had dismissed it as impossible but looking at him, she was not so sure. The man had a patience that even long lived non-humans did not possess.

"Master Perinard, I did not hear you approach," she said with a bow.

The man nodded slowly, "You were in your own thoughts Jedi Levarne. So how is he? This Siandar which the council hears so much of."

"He was given news today of the death of his parents, navigational accident. He took it better than I thought he would, he has shown true maturity in dealing with it."

The two Jedi began to walk along a corridor which overlooked the wide inner courtyard of the temple. "Indeed, he is progressing on with great speed, in time he will be a man to watch. His dedication and fervour may be his greatest asset or his downfall."

"He is the most committed of all those of his age, he does not give up until he has Mastered something. He has a desire to succeed which few his age has."

"Or of any age Jedi Levarne, of any age. He still has difficulty controlling his emotions does he not?"

"He has a keen sense of morality," Mirar said firmly. "He does not let anything happen that is against his conscience, he will learn though."

"If he is to succeed, he must put aside his emotions and look upon what he does with a certainty of logic. If he cannot do this, then he will fall. Do not think it cannot happen, that is what we said twenty years ago, nobody thought that the defections of that era would happen. We are more aware of the danger now."

"I will see that he learns such lessons Master," Mirar said dutifully.

"Yes, if he can control his emotions, then he has great potential, if he fails…." he did not finish, he did not have to.

"If there is one boy who can do it, it is he."

"Pride is an emotion that leads to the fall Mirar, do not be blinded by your pride in his ability, see what is really there,"

"I shall try Master," she said and strode away.

Aetius watched her go, nodding his head in satisfaction as she left the corridor.

Siandar Morantine, Revan to those around him, was nearly back at his room when he heard a scream of anger or rage. He winced, not from the sound but from the negative emotions surging through the Force. He felt anger, fear and even hate in the person, as yet he could not tell who it was so he moved away from his door down the hallway. Apprentices had small rooms, single beds in a room a mere ten feet by eight wide; a small window complimented it, making it seem like a cell. Revan walked down the hallway, the noise had come from the children's living areas where the new initiates were taken. The young man was used to such outbursts by those who had been taken from their parents, this had felt different however. There had been anger, not at the Jedi but at something else that was almost breathtaking, he followed the invisible path of the force trail. He came at last to a locked door, locked with a simple bolt on the outside, leading into a small bedroom on the other side. A small window allowed Revan to look through the door at the interior, the room was a mess.

Although hardly a palace, Revan's room was palatial compared to this small room, barely large enough for the child's bed and small wardrobe inside. Clothes and possessions were scattered over the floor, and on the bed was a girl. Revan knew this was a room where the more difficult students could be kept until they could be calmed from whatever trauma they had suffered. The girl looked about five, brown hair in two pigtails by her ears. All other features were hidden because she had buried her face in her hands, leaning against the wall, crying.

Revan was not a full Padawan yet but even so, he had a keen sense of how to talk to people. He could read a person's emotions and use the Force to comfort them almost instinctively, in time his Master thought he would make a great negotiator. He could feel the girl's emotions, fear was overwhelming but what was more apparent was anger, anger at someone close to her. Revan stood before the locked door for a full minute, then, on an impulse, he pushed it open. The child made a whimpering noise and moved back as far as she was able. Revan moved in and sat beside her, the fear was like a cloak around her, he was not sure what she was so afraid of to make her feelings so open.

"Who are you?" he asked as a lame way to start the conversation. The child said nothing so Revan moved forward and lay a gentle hand on her shoulder, he almost drew back when he felt the pain in her young mind. Revan was nowhere near perfect in his command of the Force, despite his dedication, instead he acknowledged that it would come in time. Even the youngest Jedi could sense that something traumatic had happened to the girl to make her come here. In a galaxy rife with danger, this was not uncommon; Revan had just experienced this first hand.

"Shh, its alright my dear. Calm please, tell me what is wrong, I am your friend. What is wrong?" he asked soothingly. Reaching out his right hand, he laid it on the frightened child's red cheek; she flinched but did not move away. Revan let his eyes close as he focussed his energy to calm the girl, to comfort her.

In a few moments, he sat back, his breathing more ragged then before, he was happier though as he saw the results. The girl took a deep breath and looked up at Revan, her blue eyes filled with sorrow, her white skin red from the heat of her arms. She wore a simple farmer's tunic and trousers that were well made, but frayed. Like a family on hard times.

"Are you alright? What is your name?" Revan asked quietly.

She looked at him gravely, like she was stuck in a body too young for her mind. "Bastila," she finally said.

"Well Bastila, I am Siandar Morantine," he did not add his self proclaimed title he had taken when his brother had died six years before. Revan, meant ghost in the language of the people of his world, a fitting title he had thought. He took his hand back and smiled at her, "why are you so sad young one?" he asked sincerely.

"They took me away,", a light accent on her words. "They took me here, I wanted to talk to daddy but the said no," she added, still sad. "I want to go home."

Revan leaned forward, how could one explain the sacrifices one must make to one so young? Perhaps one had to be his age to appreciate the need to be away from outside influences. Revan was aware that she was waiting for an answer, he cleared his throat, suddenly his impulse to come inside and talk to her did not seem so wise.

"The Jedi took you away because it is the only way you can become a Jedi."

"But I don't want to be here," she said in reply.

Revan sighed and closed his eyes; he could feel her fear was going, replaced by sorrow and curiosity. The Force burned true through her though, she would be a powerful Jedi one day if she lived. He sensed what he had to say. "Bastila, the Jedi did not want to hurt you, they took you here because your parents wanted it." He sensed a flash of hated in her mind, it was time to turn this around, he had a one in two chance of getting the next question right.

"Why do you dislike your mother?" he asked, he had struck the problem head on.

The eyes narrowed, "She hates me. She's always sending dad off. I don't want him to go. She sent me here dad was gone," Revan nodded his head slowly, that accounted for her bitterness.

"Then perhaps it is good you are here," he said, not because he believed it, but because it was the right thing to say to her. "You are too young to understand I think, but one day you will see that what they did was right."

There was a commotion at the door and a young Jedi, a Padawan pushed into the small room, he had seen the door open and likely come to investigate. He looked at Revan then to the now calm Bastila, then back to the man's impassive face.

"What are you doing here?" he asked with a hint of annoyance, Revan stood, towering over the older man. The Padawan was perhaps a year older, his robes not yet worn by much exposure to sun and wind.

"I heard her screams, felt her pain so I came to see what had happened. From what I sensed, I thought she was hurt, fortunately she was not."

The other Jedi did not know what to say, what the younger man was saying was explaining things that nobody his age could do.

"How did you know?" he asked lamely.

Revan bowed his head, "I am what is called an empathist, I suppose it is called, I can see a persons emotions through the Force. Of course, I am not that advanced but it was clear what she was thinking."

"Her name is Bastila Shan, from Telravian, this is the first time anybody has had a coherent conversation with her."

"Patience my friend, patience, she misses her family. Do not be too hard on her."

Something about the reasonable, commanding tone of the younger man made it nearly impossible for the Padawan to refuse.

"I will make sure that she is moved. Thank you, who are you anyway?"

"Revan, the name is Revan," he said and walked back down the corridor.

It was four days later when Revan found his Master in the training room.

"Revan, you are looking well," Mirar said as her student entered the teaching room. She was not supposed to call him that, encourage his strange habit but she found that it was easiest to simply call him that. He seemed to prefer it and besides, everyone had one strange character trait.

Revan did indeed look better than he had in the days since he had been told the news of his parent's death. He seemed more alive, determined, and even more than normal.

"I am well Master, tired but willing as usual."

"Good, today I will test you on the most complex thing an Apprentice learns, if I had my way, you would have learned this long ago. Rules are rules though and only those ready to take their end exams may try to do this. I think that you, Revan are more than ready for this, but do not let this go to your head. The path of the light is never easy but more satisfying then the other road that might be taken."

"The darkside?" Revan asked, received a nod and smiled very slightly. "I suppose you expect me to say I will never fall, like everybody does."

"But you won't say that?" Mirar said in puzzlement as she turned from her desk in the middle of the room. The room was a pleasant room, a teaching room that could train a dozen people or just one. Now there were just two tables, one was covered with items, the other bare. The room had windows looking at the inner courtyard and the walls beyond.

"I like to think of myself as practical, whether I am or not is another matter," he smiled winningly. "If you tell yourself that you can never fall, am never wrong then you will never see the path when it branches, If you think what you do is right then you will never question yourself and that I think is far more difficult."

Mirar just stared at him, always a mature boy; he seemed to have been changed by his parent's deaths, a change for the better. He had become graver, more serious despite flashes of humour and more responsible. He seemed so out of place amongst the bravado of so many young Jedi, too many were prideful and arrogant. Half of these young Jedi were nobles who took their rank as an excuse to do as they wished whilst many others lacked dedication or responsibility. Not that Revan was not prideful or arrogant, but he seemed to acknowledge and moderate it.

"Or did I say the wrong thing?" he asked with a tiny smile.

"No, it surprised me that is all. There are few enough who would give me such an answer, even those older than you. I must admit that I feel constantly surprised by you."

"I am honoured by the compliment Master, I am nothing yet, but in time perhaps I will learn to control myself."

"Yes indeed," Mirar said, more than a little worried that she would not be able to teach him forever. Revan had a strong natural ability, but ability did not translate to actual skill. Too many Jedi, arrogant and humble alike became prideful of their abilities, then they died or turned. It was not as simple as this, Mirar knew but the core of the problem was that a young person given such powers struggled to understand the powers they possessed. They were given to pride, anger and eventually it twisted even the noblest heart. Mirar Levarne was not as powerful as many of her students in potential and she knew it; instead she had focus and dedication. In her opinion, that was better than a whole freighter load of potential, she had to work and trust herself to achieve results, not achieving without understanding.

"Is something wrong Mirar?" he asked, seeing her distant look.

"I'm fine Siandar, and call me Master if you please," she said, perhaps a little too forcefully.

"As you wish Master, I was merely concerned for you. What would you have me do?"

"The force is like money Revan," she blurted out. She tried to make herself understand what she was saying, no easy task as she had no idea what she meant.

"Money Master?" he questioned with an eyebrow raised.

"I mean, if you are born with it, you do not appreciate it like a man who has to work for it to make his way. That is how I see the force, ability to use the force does not make you a Jedi, it is everything else we teach that does that. Responsibility, control, compassion, that is what makes me and you what we are."

Revan thought about that for a long moment before sitting on the spare table, "yes," he decided. "Yes, I can see your point Master. That which comes cheaply or freely is never appreciated like that which one must struggle for. A rich noble might buy something in a minute that takes a normal person a month or a year to save for. But usually, the rich man never appreciates what he has truly whilst the other man better understands. Not always, but usually."

Mirar nodded, it had worked out quite well although of course she would never admit otherwise. "Well, I thought it suited," she said happily.

"It was a good choice Master, even if it was made up on the spot," Revan said innocently. A brief smile was the only answer he received.

"Now, I know you have meditated long and hard on the actual method of channelling the Force, but you have not actually used it yet have you?" she looked at Revan who nodded.

"I have, yes. Only those abilities that I have not been training for." The Jedi Knight was impressed by the honest admission.

"So what have you done?" she asked sternly.

"I used the Force to calm a frightened new initiate who was giving into despair. Just after we met on the roof actually."

"I specifically told you not to do that, being able to do something is one thing, knowing why you are using it is another thing."

Revan nodded placidly, "and yet, the Jedi teach us compassion and understanding. How interesting this contradiction is."

"Are you grasping why I told you this?" Mirar asked patiently.

"I have Master but if I had not done that, just stood there, I would not have forgiven myself."

"So you are willing to do what is right no matter the cost?" she asked calmly.

"If that is what it comes down to Master, yes," Revan said very calmly.

Mirar nodded her head in acknowledgement of the fact, now was not the time to make an issue of this.

"Then sit on the table and cross your legs like I taught you to do," she waited until he had complied. Moving to the other table, the Jedi picked up a bar of metal, about three and a half pounds in weight, moving back she set it before the younger man.

"Focus now my student, reach out with your mind, only then will you see how to do this. Pass this test and the standard education exams and you will be ready for the final trial

Revan concentrated, he felt only calm as he let his conscious mind flow out, he closed his eyes. Others of his age had already secretly tried to use the Force to their will but such nonsense was not for Revan. He would learn everything he could and only when he was ready would he try. He wanted to make sure he succeeded in this, not rush through and fail. His methodical determination came to his aid as he patiently sought the path through the Force around him. He focused, never proceeding until he was sure he was ready.

Standing a few feet away, Mirar had never seen such concentration, such focus on a student so young, this Revan had a mind like iron, she knew that there would be none that could dominate his will in the years to come. Mirar waited, sensing the power flowing into the boy, he had talents and he had patience, something so rare amongst the younger Jedi of this day.

Slowly, with a seemingly infinite patience, Revan reached out his hand towards the block of metal. He had read that when one opened oneself to the Force that the sight it granted you was different, now he found it was true. He saw the things around him that lived as pillars of light, his Master was a rich blue whilst the wood on which he sat and the plant by the window was a dull white. The bar was a shadowy grey, not vibrant at all, it had never been alive so it was duller than objects of living matter.

With a hiss of breath, Revan made sure he was ready and turned his hand palm upright, his fingers pointing at the roof. He focused, doing as the books suggested, as his Master had told him, he told it to move.

Mirar's blue eyes opened in amazement as the bar floated into the air, it hovered an inch above the table, sitting there, suspended by invisible strings. Slowly it began to turn, the metal's rotation gradually increasing. Finally, the strain began to tell, Revan's face became a grimace of concentration, then with a cough, the bar fell. It bounced on the table, denting it and fell to the floor where it lay unmoving.

Mirar moved over to Revan and took his hand gently, his eyes opened slowly, focussing on her.

"I am sorry Master, I lost control of it. I thought I was ready but perhaps I was mistaken," the words were a strange monotone.

Mirar Levarne looked at him with something akin to admiration, "are you jesting? That was incredible for the first time you tried," she said warmly. "It is the first time isn't it?" she asked, just in case.

"It is, I swear on that Master." In the seven years the Jedi Knight had known the boy, she had learned he had a deep sense of honour. If he gave his word, even whilst young, he would keep it.

"The test is merely to move a block half that size at all. You raised it four inches and made it rotate, that is something I could not do in the test. I will pass you with the highest grades my student."

Revan looked almost puzzled, "you mean, I passed?"

"Half of the Apprentices your age will fail this, it is not easy to do, too many try to be too quick, too rash."

"Then I look forward to speaking to you again Master, if you will excuse me, I have my studies to attend to."

Mirar Levarne, Jedi Knight and student watched the Apprentice leave the room. She shook her head as she looked down at the block of metal, he had done it so easily but had not made it seem important. He had seemed disappointed at his lack of control, he had potential and he had the willingness to take the hard road. She wondered if he would try in privacy to use the Force, she knew he would not, after waiting all this time he was hardly likely to simply be frivolous with his power. It was a comforting thought to her as she finished her report and sealed it. She had wondered why it was her being the mentor for Revan when she had been a Knight for barely six years, three of them as the mentor of Revan. She had done her job well enough but beyond that, Revan had made it easy for her to succeed.

The Jedi woman looked down at the bar and smiled, after all this time she had no problem with such an object. She reached out her hand, it still took a second to focus on it but the bar levitated to her front, she picked it out of the air and smiled.

"Using your time productively, Jedi Levarne?" a gruff voice called to her.

Feeling slightly guilty, she looked up to see the worn face of one of the many older Jedi Knights in the temple. He had a head of prematurely balding grey hair and beady black eyes set amid tanned, scarred skin. Vrook Lamar, Jedi Knight and a famous fighter in his earlier days, having fought with distinction against the Sith in the last war. He rarely smiled, was slow to trust and even slower to forgive, but he was a good man who was an even handed judge of people.

"I just finished testing Apprentice Revan-" she began.

"Siandar Morantine," Vrook cut in sharply. "His strange fascination with the word is not to be indulged. Such weakness leads only to vanity and corruption."

"I understand," she said calmingly. "I tested him with a simple application of the force, he was able to move a bar of steel four inches above his hand on the first try. I am impressed, if he survives, he will be a great asset."

"Just be sure not to tell him that, too easy is it to give in to pride and arrogance."

"I will make sure that he is well looked after, how do the others fare?"

"They pay for their inattention now, they are not so proud now are they?" he asked grimly.

Mirar frowned at the almost gleeful words, certainly, had they come from another man they would have sounded happy. From Vrook though, they sounded flat and hard.

"No I suppose not. Dedication is what will help this through this period," she said calmly.

"Indeed it shall, now if you will excuse me, I have business elsewhere," he said and stalked off.

Mirar watched him go, packed up her few items and left the room, going to meditate in her room about what the future of Revan held.

It was three days later, the day of the final test, the last obstacle between becoming Padawans lay before them. It was a simple test, finishing their education before they became Jedi officially. The Jedi were renowned throughout the galaxy for giving high quality educations to those who joined their Order; it was considered as good as any of the many private academies on Coruscant. The fact that only Force sensitive children could attend was of course, a restrictor on numbers and ensured a higher dedication from the students. Now, the sixty five Apprentices, all between seventeen and nineteen, stood outside the room where they would take their test. In the manner of students everywhere, Apprentices were hurriedly going through last minute revisions of what they had learnt. Only one did not, Revan, his robe impeccably cleaned, crouched in meditation by the door; the students put it down to an arrogance that he possessed. He seemed to subconsciously exude a dominant air, a natural display of competence. The doors opened and the students went in.

"You summoned me Master?" Mirar looked up at the brown robed visage of Revan in the doorway. He looked confident but also his natural calm.

"I did, come inside please," she ordered. Revan was one of the few to have a Master all to himself, most students were assigned in multiples to Knights until they became Padawans. Revan, his natural ability recognised early on, had been assigned just to Mirar Levarne.

"I came as swiftly as I could Master, there was a mix up in the messages sent," Revan said calmly.

"That is not a true concern here. I have just read over your test result, I am surprised. When I heard you left the room after only two hours I was worried."

"Doubt is an enemy of the wise Master."

"I will leave you to figure that out for yourself," she said sternly. "I needn't have worried though, I have never seen or heard of one who succeeded so completely at these tests."

There was no change in the calm face before her, the blue eyes opened just a little wider. "I tried to do what I could Master," he said modestly.

Mirar sat back, looking at the boy, his dedication had paid off after all. "You do know that you and sixteen others were the only ones to pass both tests?"

"I was not aware, the others were not worthy of the order's attention," Revan said blandly.

"Perhaps not, but do not let this go to your head, there is one final task you must do."

"Master?" he asked politely, knowing full well what the task was.

"Go and see Master Raalier, she will tell you what you must do."

"Then I bid you farewell Master." He was half out the door but turned back, "Master?"

"Yes Revan?"

"Is it a gift or a curse to be a Jedi?" he asked.

Mirar considered the question thoughtfully, "it is both. It is a gift because we have the ability to do what is right, to help those who cannot help themselves. It is a curse in that with such power comes responsibility; that is something that so few people understand. It is not just the darkside, it is everything you do, it is who you are my student. If you can learn to use the power you have in you responsibly, then you will one day be great, if not, then you will fall to the ruin of all."

"Then I shall try to be careful, Master."

Jedi Master Raalier Lvov was a tall, blue skinned Twi'lek woman of about middle age; her skin was the colour of light blue crystal, matching her eyes. She was a Jedi, but more than that, she was the chronicler and archivist of the Order. She was new to the job, her predecessor killed a few years before while attempting to land on Ossus, the former base of the Jedi. The Jedi had never been seen again, the death put down to a natural phenomenon on that blasted world. Raalier was a typical Twi'lek woman in appearance, the long lekku curling almost involuntarily together, her blue hands resting on the ground as she meditated. Revan, knocked on the door, entering when he heard the summons from within.

"Ah, you are Siandar Morantine yes?" she asked with a soft, almost lilting tone. The Twi'lek stood, her head-tails moving behind her head in complex patterns. She caught the young Jedi smiling and frowned. "Is something amusing, Apprentice?"

He seemed to be weighing up what to say, eventually he shook his head. "No Master, I just found what you were saying amusing," he nodded to her lekku.

The Jedi's eyes widened in surprise, "you understand it?"

"Not much Master, but I caught something about me being a-" he began.

"Enough of that," she cut in quickly. "Now, you are here because of your successes in your exams are you not?"

"Yes Master, my Master told me to meet with you."

"Now you have passed the two basic tests, there is two more that will determine your path in the Order. Now, where do you see yourself, what role do you think you will play."

"That is something Master, I cannot say now. Only as time proceeds can I uncover my path."

"A wise answer and one not often answered by those in your position. There are three paths available to the Jedi; the guardian, the sentinel, the consular. The guardian fights for what they believe in, using the weapon of our Order to defeat injustice and evil. The guardian places themselves in the forefront of fighting the enemy, dedicating themselves to fighting for the oppressed. The sentinel is the caste who fights but only when it needs to; using other means to fight the enemy. Stealth, machines, deception is the weapons of the sentinel, rooting out injustice and battling hidden evil is its role. The sentinel concentrates on the mental approach to an attack, outwitting the foe. Finally there is the consular, the consular is the negotiator, the strategist of the Order. They place primary importance in using knowledge and the Force combined to find a solution to any problem."

The Twi'lek finally finished her speech, looking at Revan who had listened to every word. "So which do you advise?"

"I do not advise, it is your path to choose. You are young but in your heart I think you know what road you will take."

"Perhaps and perhaps not Master, how will I choose?"

"You know the code of the Jedi?" she asked.

Revan nodded, "I do Master."

"Then speak it to me now," she ordered. "Then I will ask you the questions that will determine your path."

"There is no emotion; there is peace," Revan began. "There is no ignorance; there is knowledge. There is no passion; there is serenity. There is no chaos; there is harmony. There is no death; there is the force."

"Reciting the code is one thing Siandar , understanding it is another. Do you think you understand it?"

"No, I have not even been alone outside the temple since I was brought here. No, I know nothing of what it means."

Raalier gave him a queer look, "that is an answer I did not expect. And of course you are right, sitting here, you would know little of what it means until you are forced to face the darkness in yourself. Very well then, in time you might learn what it means but for now, we must proceed."

"Master, if there is no emotion then how will we understand compassion or understanding? Is it not a contradiction?"

Raalier shook her head, "no Siandar it is not. Emotions are fraught with danger, they twist you and everything a person does until finally you are but a shadow of the person you were. I was only young but I still remember fleeing from Exar Kun's fury. He was once a good man, but he was twisted. Passion, hate, fear and anger make you illogical, it makes you do things that you never thought you could."

"You sound like you have experience in this," Revan said softly.

The Jedi nodded her head, "I had a friend once, an older friend, more of a mentor. He took a lover and trained her in the Force without the permission of the council, in the end it caused more harm than good. She turned on him and he had one chance to end the menace before it began, he chose to spare her. Only after much hardship, did he finally rectify his mistake. All because of the love of two people, for that, dozens would die."

"Who was the man?" Revan asked.

The Twi'lek, aware she was being diverted, shook her head, "no Siandar . He is lost to history, remembered by few even now." She looked at Revan, "now for you. That answers your question?"

"It is a contradiction but I see the truth in it, yes."

"In time you will see I am right Siandar . Now, your path; answer these questions as I speak them. You are in charge of a security squad surrounding a group of insurrectionists in a building. What would you do?"

Revan said nothing for a moment, then spoke firmly but slowly. "Try to find a peaceful solution, if none can be found, then I would feint with an attack while attacking from an unusual direction."

"I suspected as much," she murmured. "You are in combat with a Dark Jedi allied to the Sith, hypothetically of course. There is a pause in the battle, what do you do?"

"If he will not turn back then I have no choice but to end the threat, I attack."

"Indeed? You are different from those who normally come before me." She leaned back, her eyes flashed, she would ask the question which could only be answered the three ways. "You are in charge of a Jedi strike team investigating a refinery possessed by terrorists, you plant an explosive but the others in your group are captured. The refinery must be disabled or destroyed. What do you do?"

Revan did not hesitate like before, "I set off the explosive."

The Twi'lek had turned away to a small jewel case but turned back in shock. "Before rescuing your comrades?"

"The lives of many, including my own will be lost if I try and fail. And for what? Three people is a small price for the future of an entire world. I would eliminate the threat, the enemy will expect a rescue, I will use this to my advantage."

The Twi'lek stared at him, his patient face, he understood fully what he had said, knew what the results would be. There was something unnerving about the patient look he gave her.

"That is terrible, you would leave them to die?"

"It is logical Master. In the scheme of a thousand worlds, nobody matters, truly. In this case, such a sacrifice is necessary."

"That is not the way of the Jedi, we do not abandon those to die, by our own hand or not."

"Then perhaps I shall learn in time what the true path is," Revan did not sound convinced. In fact he sounded almost mocking, something unusual from the boy.

"So which path do you see yourself taking?" she asked, trying to put the unsettling question behind her.

"You would recommend the sentinel, but no. I will take the path of the consular."

There was a final resolution in Revan's tone, the Jedi Master bowed her head, "so be it."

Raalin shook her blue head as the human left the room, she was worried by his answer. He had been so calm, so logical, almost like he did not see the hypothetical loss as a drawback. She made a mental note to talk to Mirar about this, he needed to understand the value of life.

"Master, I have what you asked for," a voice called from behind her.

Turning quickly, Raalin saw her young Apprentice walking towards her. "I knew you would find it. What does it say?"

The man scratched his bald head, the dark skin a contrast to the azure blue of his Master. Padawan Karlian Dorak looked down at his manuscript. He started to read his findings, going over what he had learned, he was reading to himself though. Raalin was staring at nothing, her eyes half closed in thought.

"Master, what is wrong?" Dorak asked with concern.

The eyes snapped open, "nothing Padawan, I apologise. Please continue."

As the Padawan continue his findings, the Twi'lek again thought of that patient, terrible calm and shuddered.

Mirar was waiting as Revan came back to the training room, she smiled as he bowed his head. There was something different about him now, something that had not been there before, the Jedi dismissed it as tiredness on his part.

"So, I see you return, do you have what you need?" she asked.

Revan held up a crystal in his hand. Revan was left handed, something that could be put to great use on the battlefield. The crystal was pure green, two inches long and seemed to be filled with a deep radiance from within. The artificial lights of the room refracted in the heart of the crystal, making it burn with green fire.

"Normally, a Padawan discovers their own crystal, but since you would have to go ten parsecs to reliably find one, we have given you one. Now, you must make the rest of the weapon, there is no time limit, there is no race to finish. It is the cumulation of all of your time here, if you show the wisdom and skill to finish, then you will be made Padawan. You may use any methods you wish to construct it but it must be alone, and it must be left un-activated until in my presence or the presence of one of the High Council. Do you swear to uphold these rules?"

Revan bowed his head, "I do promise I shall follow your instructions."

"Then I will leave you to your own devices, do not disappoint me, Revan," she said and walked from the room.

The room was the same he had passed his first test in, Revan put the crystal safely away and walked from the room. He walked briskly back across the temple to his own small room, he unlocked and pushed his way in. On his bed were three objects, a datapad, a paper book and a power-source. Revan gathered them all and walked swiftly back down the hall to the library of the Jedi. Sitting down in his accustomed seat, he looked over his blueprints, manuals and technical schematics; he knew he could probably throw the weapon together in a day but Revan was patient and methodical. He would take a week if it took a week to finish, he would succeed if wanted to.

The heat from the workbench was sweltering as the man laboured over it. Three days of constant work had finally began to tell on the stubborn Apprentice Jedi, his face was drawn and his eyes tired. He pushed on though, sealing and soldering the final joint in the long tube. He had worked at it for three days and now it sat before him as he pulled off the heavy gloves and mask that had shielded him from the heat and sparks. Revan knew what had to happen next, four hours for the casing to cool and set, then inserting the crystal into the matrix of the power web. If all went well, his weapon would be ready by nightfall. Moving over, he consulted the schematics a last time and nodded, he had done everything to specification, now he had to wait. After three days, he could wait a few hours for the final step.

Deciding that he needed a break, he cleaned his hands and walked out the door, walking along the passages. Most people, seeing his purposeful gaze, avoided him, even many of the Jedi Knights were not eager to get near him. Oblivious, he walked out along the passages until he came to a wide outdoor terrace, just below the library.

"So you are the famous Revan are you?" an accented but pleasant voice called from behind him. The voice was gentle but stressed some words it said strangely, clearly not a Coruscant native.

Revan turned to see a man about his age or perhaps a little older watching him. He had the robe and demeanour of a Padawan Jedi who had recently reached his rank. But still, there was no arrogance about the man, just a polite interest.

"I don't know about famous, but yes, I am Revan."

"So, a ghost eh?" the other man said, stepping into the light.

Revan took in the green eyes, brown hair and tanned face. The man had a scar on his neck just below his right ear but when he saw the interest, he shifted his robe to cover it.

"You know? I was under the impression it was not well known," Revan said to buy time.

"Revenant is the derivative of it, yes? Outer rim dialect I recall."

Revan was impressed, despite himself, even the council did not know the meaning of the word. "So where are you from? And you have the advantage of me, who are you?"

"I am from Iax my friend, that planet of unending smoke," he said calmly.

Revan did not miss the term of endearment, he put it aside for later. Iax, he recalled was a factory world on the other side of the galaxy from his home world. It was hardly a place of great knowledge or wisdom. He told the man as much and he chuckled. "Aye, it was hardly the world of geniuses, my parents were inventors, high ranked but not high enough to escape that hell-hole. They sent me to the Jedi when I was young, probably just as well, you heard what happened?"

"No, it is not exactly in the public spotlight often," Revan responded.

"That is true as well my friend," the man's face darkened. "Meteor strike Revan, meteor strike. They appealed to the Republic for help but by the time action was decided upon, the planet had a two mile hole in it. My parents and a score of thousands of others were killed."

"I regret your loss, I hope that the pain is not too much," Revan said fervently.

The green eyes widened slightly, "I hope so too lad," he said, using the odd words despite the fact he was only a few month older than Revan. "But I suppose the Jedi pretty much consider themselves soulless so maybe it might rub off on me eh?"

Siandar Morantine smiled thinly at the man he still did not know the name of, he liked his attitude. Different from the rest of the Jedi, he seemed the man to not blindly accept what was put before him, a man who would irritate his Master, Revan knew.

"But how remiss of me Revan, I still have not told you my name. The name is Jedi Padawan Valiens Nantaris, honoured to meet you."

"Siandar Morantine, call me Revan though," he replied.

"I intend to lad, besides, I could use the help of the dead," he joked morbidly.

He seemed odd next to Revan, his eccentric speech and lightness of tone contrasted with the serious and severe Revan.

"So where are you from? To know what my name means is strange indeed," he asked.

Valiens nodded, "I suppose you want to know, nothing wrong with that. As I said, I am from Iax originally, but arrived here specifically today."

"So where were you before? I have not seen you before."

"As I said, I arrived this morning, I sought you out. The man who passed his trials with the same score as I."

"You got full marks?" Revan asked, surprised.

"You find that strange friend? Not the Force trial, the written one. A couple of months ago I passed."

"So where was your original training ground?" Revan asked the question for the fourth time.

"You heard of Morlock Four? No? Jedi training ground, near your homeworld, that is why I know the lingo."

"How do you know where I was born? It is a common enough dialect out there," he said defensively.

"Aye, it is but I found out you are from Miletus."

"And how?" Revan felt he was going in circles.

"I asked your Master of course," he said smugly. "I was pleased to see her again."

"She used to be there?"

"Aye, on Morlock Four, before she left for here."

"So why are you here?"

"I am here to obtain a Master," he said gnomically.

"They did not have one on Morlock Four?"

"The majority of Jedi become guardians, sentinels are the smallest number percentage wise. And that is what I am lad. My Master to be, died. Killed fighting a last pocket of Krath in the outer rim."

Revan nodded, "I see. Well anyway, I have to get back."

"Aye I see that, you did well on the lightsabre," Valiens said airily.

"And how, would you know that unless you picked the lock?" Revan asked sweetly.

Valiens smiled, "not to worry lad, just wanted to see how you were going. Besides, I needed somebody to show me around, you looked like just the fellow to do that."

"Why not? I still have a couple of hours before I can finish the weapon."

"It is ironic really," Valiens said as the two of them walked out onto the wide balcony that looked over the main courtyard.

"What is?" Revan asked as the older man stood, watching the Jedi below.

"That for an Order that preaches humility, we certainly have a grand enough building," he said with a sigh.

"It was a gift from the senate if I am to believe what I am told."

"Does that mean we have to use it? No lad, kind of contradictory really."

"That is just one of many," Revan said softly, moving to follow his new friend over towards the council chambers.

Jedi Master Aetius Perinard looked down calmly at the two approaching figures, Siandar Morantine and Mirar Levarne walked forward towards him. It was near midnight but the small council chamber was still bright with artificial light; Siandar was carrying a small wooden box before him whilst his Master was walking behind the boy. The Jedi Master nodded his head in appreciation as the two bowed.

"Master Perinard, Apprentice Morantine wishes to present his final test to you."

"Then he will approach," the Jedi said calmly. Revan opened the wooden box and drew from it a silvery metal cylinder about ten inches long, fairly plain from ornamentation and held it up.

Aetius took it and hefted it, he frowned slightly, "did you make this by yourself Apprentice?"

"I did Master, I swore an oath that I would do this by myself and I have kept it."

The grey eyes blinked, there was no reaction. The Jedi was surprised though, the balance on the weapon was something that he would not expect on a first attempt, it was well proportioned indeed. He held it up, seeing the neat and accurate joins, the delicate but not adventurous design. No hint of ornamentation was on it, it was the weapon of a practical person; if it worked of course. After seeing it and the builder however, Aetius Perinard had no doubt that the device would work, he handed it back.

"Then if you believe that you have had the wisdom to see the path before you, you may try. Remember though, it is a physical embodiment of your responsibilities as a Jedi."

"I understand Master," Revan said, showing a small amount of amusement as he took the weapon back. Taking it in both hands, he held it facing straight up and closed his eyes, he knew what to do. He activated the weapon with a single movement of his finger.

The emerald beam that sprung from the hilt shone even through his closed eyelids, it was three feet long from silver end to shining emerald tip, pulsing with light.

"It seems that you have succeeded Padawan," Aetius Perinard said calmly.

"Yes Master, I hope that this day may be one I remember with pride."

"Jedi Levarne, are you willing to undertake the task of training the Padawan?" Aetius asked, turning to the Knight.

"I am Master, I will take this task as long as I am able to fulfil it."

The blade deactivated at the Jedi Master's nod, Revan clipping it to his belt and nodding in recognition.

"Then with the consent of the Jedi council, I create you Padawan of the Jedi and student to Jedi Laverne. May you walk in the light as long as you are among us."

"I thank you Master, I appreciate that I have much to do yet. I will endeavour to be an inspiring example."

"Then go with a final warning, the way of the light is hard and long, many pitfalls stand before you but in the end, they can be overcome. Try to see what must be done and do it."

Revan looked interested for a long moment before nodding. "As you will Master," he said and turned with his teacher to leave.

"So I see you passed lad, well done," Valiens said as the Padawan stepped out onto a wide open space with views of the endless city. There were a few people around, they were engaged in thoughts of their own and ignored the two Padawans.

"Thank you, why lad though, you're what, three months older?" Revan asked innocently.

"What else was I going to call you?" Valiens protested.

"How about friend?" Revan asked seriously.

"Aye, I could do that, friend."

"So, what happens now? Have you got a Master yet?"

Valiens frowned, "they told me that there was one available. I have not met them yet but they come on high recommendation."

"I'm glad to hear that my friend." Revan held out his hand, the other man smiled slightly then took the offered wrist firmly.

"If we work together then we will both be better off, yes?" Valiens asked.

"My pardon, is there a Padawan Nantaris here?" a deep voice asked.

"I am he, what service may I be?" Valiens said with an ironic bow.

"I am Jedi Knight Findarl Prestona, I have been appointed as your Master whilst you are a Padawan."

The Jedi Knight was an average looking, dark skinned man in his forties. There was nothing particularly special about him, just that he was the sort of Jedi who seemed almost factory built these days. Once the Order had relied on individuality an initiative, now, after the Sith War, such thoughts were shunned and put aside. He seemed a kindly enough man, the sort who would be raising crops or selling goods if the Force had not taken him.

"I am pleased to meet you, Master," Valiens said with a slight bow again.

"And you would be the Siandar Morantine I have heard of yes?"

"Yes Master," Revan said automatically.

"Good, Padawan Nantaris, I would be appreciative if you were ready to start tomorrow at dawn."

"I will be there Master," Valiens said s the Jedi strode away.

"Look after yourself Nantaris," Revan said as his friend moved away.

"And you as well Revan," the older man said and walked away into the temple.

Siandar Morantine stood watching the city, studying the weapon he held like it was the Key to Time itself, soon he was alone. He held the silver tube out and pressed the button. The emerald light was the only luminance on this now deserted space. Revan saluted with the blade and swept it down, there was silence on the open space, save for the wind.

**Any and all comments, reviews and queries are welcome. I hope you enjoyed this, I will be back soon.**


	2. Chapter 2

First off, thank you for the six reviews! I am impressed and excited by this. I hope that this chapter can be as good.

The (K-x) is KOTOR minus the number x in years. It might get a little confusing otherwise. Hopefully it is not too intrusive.

Special thanks to Prisoner24601 (who also reviewed) for beta reading this. I really do appreciate it. I fixed some of the formality but not all. I hope you understand. I am still considering the best way to change the characters, I will try to update later.

_Alice the Raven_ – Glad you liked it. One thing I have tried to do, is make the story detailed. Hopefully, it is not too detailed or stuffy. Thanks for the review, hope to see your next chapter soon.

_NickNova_ – Glad you liked it. I tried to make Revan unique. Hopefully I can do it. Good stories too, I will be sure to leave a review.

_Charamei_ – Actually, English is my first language. I just write really formally, and awkwardly. My beta reader though is trying to make me use more contractions. With Revan though, I have made a conscious effort to make him overly formal. I hope it does not distract too much. I hope I can portray Carth better. Else the OO will be after me!

_Prisoner24601_ – What can I say? How about, thank you for the review and your help? I hope to see your next chapter up soon also!

_Stupid-Gizka_ – Thanks! I have never had such an enthusiastic review before! Hope you like this chapter.

_Brynn_ – I'm on your favourite authors list? I am honoured, I mean it. I liked your story but I haven't reviewed! How evil of me. Hope you like this.

Chapter 2 – Six Weeks Later (K-20)

Kuat, the key to the defence of the Republic. As Coruscant was the heart of the political workings of the Republic, so Kuat was the heart of its military. The headquarters might sit on Coruscant but it was here, in the orbit of the red planet that the Republic was defended from. The fleets of the Republic, scores of ships ranging from tiny one man fighters to the massive battleships sat in orbit at the drive yards. The machinery, men and facilities to build, equip and dock these ships was here, guarded by the most advanced defences in the galaxy. The Republic Navy had its headquarters here, the army nearby; from here, the vast territory of space was controlled and defended. Tens of miles of spidery metal dockyards, buildings and construction materials were joined together like a child's haphazard toy.

At the centre of it all was one of the most famous and distinctive stations in the galaxy, the Kuat Academy. It was here that new officers learned the trade of war-making and diplomacy, it was here that the brightest stars of the Republic blazed and it was here that was now a high ranked officers sat in very important postings. The academy was shaped like a giant child's spinning top, the wide ring around the middle some ten miles wide. On the highest pinnacle was a series of rooms for dignitaries and the office of the head of the Republic's training academy.

The room was luxurious by any standards, considering it was where it was, it was palatial. Soft carpets covered the floor, tapestries hid the bare white walls and dark oak furniture suggested an old style charm. The contrast of the old wood with the modern machines, the datapads and the communications engines created a strange sense of modern elegance.

There was a knock on the door, the figure by the window stiffened. The person staring out into the endless wastes of space, past the heart of the Republic Navy. His tall frame stiffened at the intrusive sound.

"Come," the authoritative voice commanded. The voice was that of a middle aged man, experienced and noble; the voice of a man used to giving orders. Carias Lavoran, this man's name was and he wore the uniform of a full Republic Post Captain, a man who was captain of a capital ship. Post Captain was the highest rank of a man who led just one ship,.

The door slid open without a sound to reveal a second man, as tall as the first but with a different uniform. This officer wore the uniform of a Republic Commodore; a blue and black uniform looped with gold braid and silver epaulettes. Down the front ran a series of twenty golden buttons, on the shoulder boards was the image of a golden eagle, claws out. The officer removed his peaked cap, revealing short, prematurely grey hair which still held some of its former black lustre, he stood still as the junior officer turned.

Two sets of blue eyes met, looks of recognition dawning in both faces, replaced by carefully hidden smiles of welcome. The captain saluted briskly, and then, now they were alone, smiled. Commodore Philippe Daguerre smiled at his friend and walked forward, shaking hands in front of the desk.

"Commodore. sir. You had a pleasant trip?" he asked tonelessly.

"I did Captain, sit please. We are alone as you can see, I do not stand on ceremony here."

The two men, both in their early forties, both with prematurely grey hair, sat opposite one another. The table they sat at was a dark hardwood from a planet on the outer rim, its dark brown almost black under the lacquer. Lavoran drew out a crystal bottle of obvious quality half filled with dark brown liquid.

"Aldivval Brandy as usual, aged twenty years." The Captain poured a few drops into two glasses and held one out to his superior.

Daguerre held the glass up to the light, nodding in approval.

"I am surprised you still have some of it. After all, it's not easy to acquire."

"You might say that, what I have left over from our adventure there." The two men sat for a moment in wistful silence before they remembered their purpose here.

Commodore Daguerre put the glass down, un-drunk and looked up. "You called and asked me to come here, I know it was not for catching up. Well Carias? What is it that was so important?"

Seeing that the time had come to put aside mirth, Lavoran leaned forward, arms resting on the desk. "A rather personal nature Philippe, my father is dead."

Commodore Philippe Daguerre, commander of the Kuat defences and the temporary commander of the Third Battlefleet nodded. He could see his old friend had been distracted as soon as he had entered, now he knew what beset the man. Daguerre was well placed for his age, a commodore at the age of forty three, leading the most prestigious of the non-fleet commands and in good position to go higher. A soldier since the Krath Insurrections, he had graduated at this very academy and fought in battle and in the corridors of power for his own advancement. That had culminated three years before when he was made commodore and put in charge of all the Kuat defences.

"I'm sorry to hear that Carias," he said with a slight softening of the voice.

Captain Carias Lavoran nodded gravely; he was the son of an aristocrat, the oldest son of the ruler of the important world of Haardias Kul. He was now, through a feat of brilliant political manoeuvring, head of the Kuat Academy, a respected position indeed. Now however, things had changed, at forty two, he was now entitled to his noble position on the death of his father, and perhaps far more even than that.

"So am I Philippe, so am I."

Daguerre was an intelligent man, a man few could try to get the better of, he did not have to be a genius to see what would happen next.

"And that makes you heir to your families' power and money."

Carias looked up and nodded, "it does indeed Philippe. It also gives me his seat in the senate pending the next re-election."

Daguerre turned and looked at his friend's captain's uniform. The Captain's silver eagle symbolising all the two had worked for, for twenty years. Since the Sith War they had been friends, fighting as junior officers alongside the other luminaries of that age. Now he knew that he would abandon it all for a change to do what he had always wanted, to be a politician. The idea was almost impossible to comprehend for the older man, but his friend had always put more emphasis in politics than in actual military commands. That was why he was here, at the Academy and not leading fighting ships like Daguerre.

"So you will leave all of this behind? For what? To be a senator?"

"It is what I always wanted Philippe, you want to be the Commander-in-Chief and one day you may. I never wanted that, my path was drawn before I stepped into the halls of this academy. Before the Sith War, I knew that I was born to be a politician, I do not regret or resent that. My father you understand, he sent me here so I would learn what the galaxy really was about, so I could govern with wisdom. It is easy to see how many men sit in their mansions for their whole lives and never see the world beyond it."

"So, you are resigning your commission?" Daguerre asked calmly.

"I had the news ready for transmission for two days now, I wanted to tell you first. You have been my commander and friend, that is why I called you here."

"I am honoured Carias. You will do well in it, it was what you were born to do."

"And you were born to lead Philippe. One day, the Republic will appreciate you."

Daguerre stood and waved his friend to the window, the two men stood before the portal, looking into blackest night.

"I have been hearing rumours of things that even Admiral Chearaux has not heard. Rumours from outside the bounds of our great nation."

The voice had been low, not meant to be heard except by his close friend. "What have you heard?" Carias asked in the same quiet tone.

"There is a new man who has claimed the title of Mandalore, the warlord of the clans." His voice was solemn, with good reason.

"You are sure Philippe?" Carias asked in surprise.

"Yes, positive. I know what you must do but I sense that eventually their path will lead them to us and then is when we need fighting soldiers. Desk soldiers are all very well but in war, only those who can fight will succeed."

"Then it is well I will be trying to assist you from behind. I am no fighting leader, despite my experience."

"You are wrong in that my friend, you have a strategic mind, only a fool fights in the front ranks. But I know that I will feel better if you are trying to control those apes in power."

"Now, now Philippe, I hope one day to be one of those apes," he replied dryly.

"Well whatever you do, I will feel better knowing I have one man in the Senate who understands the way the military works. Most have never seen a warship, let alone fought."

"I will do what I can."

"And who do you have down for your replacement?" Daguerre said, getting back on track.

His friend's fingers drummed on the sill of the window. He was thinking hard, his eyes unfocused, finally he turned back. "I think that of all of them Commander Saul Karath is the most promising. He has shown remarkable results when leading troops in battle and in demonstrations are above anything his comrades have shown."

"I think you are right, driven young man, best of your people here I think."

"Unless you want to give up Dodonna or Veirloth," Carias suggested thoughtfully.

"I really think not Carias. Besides, Commander Dodonna has transferred to the Second Fleet, effective last month. And Veirloth is staying as my second."

"Then it has to be Karath, still, he is a good enough man, a little intense sometimes but not unbearably so."

"We shall see how he goes." Daguerre turned and held out his hand, "goodbye Carias. You are doing the Republic Navy a great wound by leaving but at least you can keep an eye on those bastards on Coruscant."

"I will try to keep them honest. I had best be getting ready, the launch will be here in three days."

"Of course, do you have the resignation papers?" Daguerre asked calmly.

Carias went to a draw and pulled out a sheaf of papers which he handed to his commanding officer. Daguerre took them, leafing through the papers, noting the precise writing. Then, he drew a pen and signed the papers, handing them back with a flourish.

"Good luck my friend, I want you to succeed."

"Thank you Philippe," he said and saluted his commanding officer one last time.

Daguerre returned the gesture, then strode from the commandant's quarters.

Six days later, Daguerre sat in his quarters aboard the _Relentless_, the flagship of the Kuat Defence Fleet. The _Relentless_ was a battlecruiser, a mighty ship near three miles long, a feat he could remember that was once impossible. The _Relentless_ was one of the new breed of warships, the designs rethought after the Sith War to compensate for the weaknesses exposed therein. The battlecruiser was an odd ship, a mix of battleship and cruiser, but not good enough to be as good as either. Still, they were the kings of the space battles, their nearly ninety turbo-laser batteries could waste fleets, cities and planets with equal ease. The ship was a bulky thing, nearly as tall as it was high, Daguerre had heard new ships were coming but until then, he had to use what he had. The Commodore commanded the _Relentless_, two heavy cruisers and three light, all to protect the heart of the Republic navy.

There was a firm rap on the door, Daguerre looked up from his work, he called for the person to enter.

The door slid open to reveal the well tailored uniform of a Republic commander, similar to that of a captain, but with two gold rings on the epaulettes instead of the eagle.

"Commander Saul Karath reporting sir," he said with a sharp salute.

Daguerre had risen as the door opened and now saluted the soldier opposite him. The Commodore took in the man's grey-blue eyes, rugged face and black hair. An impressive man who had not fear of fighting in the front ranks, judging by the scars down the left side of his face.

"At ease Commander, sit please." Daguerre waited until the man had complied, taking the seat opposite his commander, back straight.

"You wanted to see me sir?" he asked after a few seconds had elapsed.

Daguerre nodded, he had the measure of the man now, impetuous but brave, he had read the reports. "I did Commander, you heard of what happened to Captain Lavoran?"

"He resigned his commission sir. I heard that he was retiring to go back to politics, to the Senate."

"Indeed he was Commander, you heard right. Now tell me, what is your current posting?"

Saul looked at the Commodore for a few seconds, the man was asking a question he already knew the answer to. Which meant he was gauging the answer, Saul shrugged.

"As you know sir, I am in command of the light cruiser _Valorous_, in your command sir."

"And you have performed exceptionally well in that role Commander. Discipline is one of the best in the entire Kuat Defence Fleet, your officers speak highly of your devotion." Daguerre was paraphrasing the report as he read, what he did not read was the unconventional methods Karath used. His juniors spoke highly of him, but this was underlined with fear, a fear of the man who was sitting as straight as a pole before him. At thirty eight, the man had done well to secure such a command three years before, due in part to his marriage to the daughter of Admiral Chearaux, the commander of the navy. Previous to that he had been a desk soldier on his homeworld of Corellia, with little to do but with great rewards. Then, under pressure from his father in law, he had taken a real command, the commission provided by said relative.

"I do my duty sir; those who are under my command see things the way I do. A soldier does his duty, they get no praise for merely doing their role, going above it attracts praise, below attracts punishment."

"And I have no complaints about this Commander, in peace time, the men must not be allowed to slacken. Above all, we must keep a steady flow of new officers, soldiers we can rely on to take our places once we move on."

"Yes sir," Saul said automatically, waiting for a hint.

"Captain Lavoran's departure has left his post unattended Commander." Daguerre stood, the younger man matching him, then the Commodore was looking out the window where the Academy could be seen. Daguerre turned back, "I will say this plainly, I do not approve of the way you acquired your command."

"Sir, I had extenuating-" Saul began, containing his anger.

"Please let me continue, Commander. Although I do not approve of your, promotion, I will say you have exceeded my expectations. You have done in the time aboard that ship, what some cannot ever do. And you did it in peace time as well. A battle victory solidifies a leader's position, the men are uncertain until they can see victory. I congratulate you on this, Captain Karath."

It took Saul a few moments to recognise the change. He saluted. "Thank you sir."

"In two days you are taking command of the Kuat Academy, I have orders for your reassignment. As you will be technically in command of a capital ship, you have been promoted to captain. It is brevet rank only of course, once you are off that station, you revert to being a commander."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," Saul said, not letting any emotion show. Inwardly he was not entirely happy, but in the absence of any better opportunities, Saul would take this easy job.

"It was not my doing, not entirely. The Commander-in-Chief agreed with my recommendation and put you in as Lavoran's replacement. You staff will of course go with you, you will receive a full briefing as to your job requirements from my Chief of Staff, Lieutenant Feilus.

"Yes sir, I will do my best sir."

"I know you will Karath, give my regards to your wife when you see her."

"I will do that sir," Saul stood from his seat and left the room.

Daguerre watched him go, thinking for a moment before he called his ADC, Lieutenant Tagire Anadera.

"Sir?" the respectful, aristocratic voice called from his desk.

"Send a message to Commander Veirloth, tell him he wants a word with me."

"Yes sir, one hour?"

"That will be good Anadera." He shut the channel, looked at the file of Saul Karath one last time, then put it aside and waited.

"Good to see you sir, it has been too long," Veirloth said as he walked into the room.

Daguerre smiled and rose, holding his hand out for the man to take. Daguerre looked over the man, his stern face, iron grey hair and fierce blue eyes.

"Sit Tarik my friend. We have much to discuss."

Captain Tarik Veirloth limped to the table, the injury from the Sith War twenty years before. Even after all this time, the wound had not healed, the Captain having to use a long black stick.

"Thank you sir, I would stand but…."

"No Captain, it is fine. I understand." Daguerre handed the man a glass of aged liquor from the vineyards of Palieus and sat himself.

He felt a great affinity for the man opposite him, he had been a friend and comrade since the Sith War, a man he could always trust to back him up. At forty five, he was older that the Commodore but was still his junior in rank, still he had ability and devotion to the Republic. Now the man wore the rank of a full post captain, the silver eagle weathered by time and exposure to the suns of a hundred systems.

"So what do you need sir?" Tarik asked, Philippe smiled.

"I think we can drop the honorifics Tarik, we are friends here. I had a good reason to call you here, Captain Lavoran."

"And what about the good Captain specifically has happened." Tarik Veirloth had been travelling for the last few days, he had heard nothing of the resignation.

"I thought you would have heard Tarik, he resigned his commission."

Veirloth set his glass down on the table and raised his eyebrows at his friend. "And why would he do that?" he thought for a moment. "His inheritance, his father is dead yes?"

"You always were the quick one Tarik. Yes, his father is dead, he resigned to take his seat in the Senate."

Veirloth nodded, then looked up into his commander's face. "What of the Academy?"

"Commander Saul Karath, now Captain Saul Karath now has the head of training our youths."

Veirloth sniffed in disapproval. That he disliked the man was no secret, Veirloth was a professional soldier, enlisted for twenty two years already, whereas Karath had bought his promotion. Using the influence of Admiral Chearaux, Saul had jumped the queue, now he was a captain and Veirloth despised such manoeuvres. The older man would never have the money to pay for the promotion to Commodore, he had to work on merit, something that was not always rewarded.

Daguerre saw the look of dislike and moved on before his friend could mention his thoughts. "So now that that position has been filled, there is one last place to fill: mine."

"Yours sir? You are not resigning as well are you?"

"Of course not Tarik, but I have received in the last ten minutes, a message from the Commander-in-Chief himself."

Daguerre held out a datapad to his friend, which Veirloth took and examined closely. Veirloth looked up after a moment, seeing his friend was barely concealing his relief. Tarik read it again and then put it down.

"I am impressed sir, do you get the star to go with it?" he said, referring to the single star of a rear admiral.

"No my friend I do not, not yet anyway."

What Daguerre held in his hands was what he had hoped for, for so long, a fighting command with high rank. Though he remained a commodore, he would be taking over command of a whole sector group, a tenth of the Republic Fleet. He was not an admiral yet, he did not have the experience but still he had control of three times the ships as he had in the Kuat Defence Fleet. He had the _Relentless_ as well as six heavy cruisers and eight light cruisers, the frontline force of the Republic Navy.

"Congratulations Philippe," Tarik said warmly, he held out his hand to shake.

Daguerre took it but kept smiling at his friend. "You have not read the last three lines Tarik. Read them aloud."

Veirloth looked down at the datapad once more, his eyes widened but he did as he was ordered, he read the message aloud. "And in the place of Commodore Daguerre, the High Command has appointed Captain Veirloth to this command, effective immediately. In this position, the Captain will be in command of the Kuat Defence Forces as well as overseeing the protection of the Kuat Academy."

"Congratulations to you Tarik, you see? Merit is rewarded, sometimes."

"Did you recommend me?" Veirloth asked, at a loss to express his relief.

Daguerre had, but knew it was important not to say, so he changed the subject. "I would take the _Trident_ as your headquarters," he said, referring to the famous heavy cruiser from the Krath disturbances.

Veirloth noted the diversion but let it go. "As you wish sir. I am honoured that I am now in this job."

"Indeed, keep well Captain."

Tarik Veirloth made to stand, unable to hide a grimace as he did so; Daguerre did not comment on it, it was not his business. As the limping Captain reached the door, he turned back one last time, a puzzled look on his face.

"Sir, have you heard of Minos IV?"

Philippe's head looked up, he frowned, "Sith base, liberated after the end of the war. Manufactures agricultural equipment, not Republic. What about it?"

The Captain frowned, fiddling with the top of his cane. "I made some friends there in the war, contact was lost three months ago. I helped sponsor an expedition out there to see what happened." The Captain sighed.

"What happened?" Daguerre asked, interested at this intelligence.

"They landed near where the city used to be, it was ruined.," The voice did not change but his eyes told showed what he felt. "The dead were everywhere, left to rot in the sun, the buildings smashed." He looked up at his friend, "they were attacked by something. Something with weapons like we use, we found no settlements left, they had nothing, no weapons or army. And something crushed them, Philippe."

Daguerre made his face blank but the news was unsettling, put together with the other news he had gathered, it was painting a worrying picture. He leaned forward, "I had some troubling news and this seems to have confirmed it."

Veirloth was interested despite himself, "sir? What have you heard?"

"There is a new Mandalore, Tarik. You remember, the old one retreated to their territory after the Sith War. Now a new man is in charge, a warlike one. And I would guess that this was a small group testing out defences out in the far rim. Perhaps a radical faction, perhaps not."

Veirloth nodded slowly, "We don't know though. Do we?"

"No Tarik, we don't. Keep this to yourself, I will share it with Admiral Chearaux when I see him next."

"Sir," Veirloth said, saluted as well as he could with his crippled leg and limped from the room.

After a few moments, Lieutenant Tagire Anadera came into the room. The youngest son of the King of Troiken, a fervent Republic sympathiser and ally. Though not officially part of the Republic, they were in everything except name, they were protected by the Neutral Protection Act and even had a representative. in the Senate. The Prince was a Coruscant educated man of fine qualities and made a good ADC to the much older Commodore.

"Captain Veirloth is on his way sir," he said respectfully.

"Good, you heard about what has happened to me?"

"I heard sir, I thing congratulations are in order sir."

Daguerre chuckled, "damn the back slapping Anadera, I have serious news. I want you to contact your father and tell him to see what he can find out about the territories beyond the border of Republic Space. We have no authority out there but he does as set down by the Protection Act. Out beyond the rim in the south east, standard bearings."

"I will see to it directly sir." The Lieutenant saluted, his pale hair falling over his brown eyes, he walked from the room. "Oh, sir?" he said as he was nearly outside.

"Yes Lieutenant?"

"I heard what the Captain was saying, he told me outside. My father said he has lost communication with eight other worlds in the last year."

"Have any teams gone out there?" Daguerre asked, slightly alarmed as he put two and two together.

"No sir, they are distant, hardly inhabited, we have not had the money or time to launch such an operation."

"Keep me informed of all such future news, I will pass it on to Command."

The young prince left the room, Daguerre wrote his report to the Commander-in-Chief, then

Daguerre stared out across the endless stars, the nebulae, the planets, seeking answers to the mysteries before him. He needed proof, but he could not get it, he needed time, but he could not make it. Above all, he needed a key, "I will find out what is happening. If they draw their swords against us then they will regret it." He paused and after a moment, sighed, "if we are strong enough."

The Commodore stood in a cloud of gloom, silent and choking. The worst thing was, he was right, he could not see the Republic standing. He cursed the thought and slowly paced from the room.

Two Years Later (K-18)

Far from that gloomy cabin, another man sighed, running his hands through his brown hair and straightening up. This man also wore a uniform, this one pale blue with black cuffs and collars. His bars showed him as a lieutenant, not a Republic soldier but a provincial man. His jacket showed his name on his right side: Carth Onasi. The room he was in was tall and filled with light, the sun streaming through the many windows onto the tiled floor. Carth paced, seemingly nervous of something, his eyes darting between the view outside and the path he had cleared in the dust. Telos, his home was in trouble, dissent had never been much of a problem for the people had always been just and hardworking, not now. Now, as with many places throughout the Republic, secret groups were putting years of planning into action. Telos was a strange mix of natural beauty and cultivation, white cities and small towns, swampy deltas and wide fields. Carth loved his home and he loved the Republic which Telos theoretically belonged to, the system had never been close to any of the vast empires of the galaxy, until two decades before. Then, as the Sith War was finally finishing, Telos had been threatened, attacked and in danger from the rampaging Sith, they had called out to the Republic. And the Senate had come to their aid, the Sith were gone now, driven into history but the people had not forgotten what the Republic had done for them, until now at least. Now many people, the younger generation, outsiders and those who had not seen that momentous conflict distrusted the Republic's methods. They saw the hand of peace as a hostile take over, resentment had risen, simmering anger surfaced in the streets of Ankifor, the Capital of Telos.

Carth's endless and monotonous pacing through the otherwise abandoned room was interrupted by a door's opening. Carth turned to see his father enter, the man was old, he had taken a young wife when he was forty. He held out his hands, Carth smiled and crossed to him.

"Son, I see you are still pacing, relax, we have dealt with these problems before."

"But not on such a large scale, father," Carth said tiredly. To his father, he did look tired, he was young to be a lieutenant but it was what he wanted. What he really wanted was to join the Republic, but as an officer.

"Once we get this cleaned up son, we can have a nice, long break."

"Yes father," Carth said and sighed.

"Don't let it trouble you son, at least you are here, close to home."

"But I want to fight for the Republic, like you did once," he said.

His father sighed, Drein Onasi had indeed fought for the Republic once, even though Telos was not a Republic world. He had fought as a private soldier as part of the "Allegiance Corps", a unit composed of non-Republic soldiers. Rising to ensign over the bodies of the incumbents, his father had won the Bronze Halo above the blasted world of Takiw against the Sith as a pilot.

"I have seen war lad, it isn't something you want to see, believe me. Whatever brave notions you have of glory and victory, abandon them, there is only death. Two hundred men from Telos, a whole company went to war, eighteen came back and even those that did are not the same. War changes things son, it made me see that there is no humanity, just different extents of idiocy. And I am not having you marched off to some hell hole to die." Drein Onasi's voice rose as he spoke."

"But it is what I want, the Republic helped us. Those people out there, they care nothing for what happened, I want to show that I appreciate what happened. And if that makes me reckless and stupid in your eyes then so be it." Carth, never really one to conceal his anger snapped at his father.

Drein smiled, "that is what I told your grandfather, son. But I am not stopping you, there are freighters leaving regularly, a recruitment station nearby."

"But I want to be an officer, a commander, so I can keep at least some men alive."

"And you think you have what it takes to be a leader?" his father asked fiercely.

"I am willing to try, there is nothing for me here."

"Have you considered how difficult it is to get into the Academy Carth? The, patronage, required is upwards of seventy thousand credits, that is just the admittance, if you sold everything you possessed you might get a tenth of that."

"I will find a way," Carth said grimly. "So why are you here? I have a job to do."

"And so do I, son." Drein said and stalked from the room.

Carth's communicator buzzed, he drew it from his belt and held it to his mouth. "Lieutenant Onasi reporting."

"Lieutenant, this is Colonel Nadine, your presence is required in the main HQ."

"I will be there Colonel, Onasi out."

Carth turned and walked from the room, out into a wide corridor, white stone looking out over the city below. The building had once been the royal palace but Telos had been a democracy for a century now, now it was the president's building. It was typical of Telosian design, spires contrasted with rounded domes and white stone. Carth walked down from the top floor where he had stood watching the city, walking down a large flight of stairs and across the tilted floors. There were more people about now, soldiers saluted as he passed, civilians smiled and he returned them as he approached a large set of double doors, guarded by men in sky-blue uniforms. The uniforms had originally been from the more outer rim regions but the fashion, as well as the relatively easy design had ensured it spread across Republic space. Now whole regiments in the Republic Military were dressed in the light blue and black uniforms, standing out from most of their comrades. The two guards looked him up and down, one took his security tag, then handed it back.

"Go right in sir, the Colonel is just inside."

Carth walked into the room, his books clicking on the tiled floor as he walked towards a large conference table. Heads looked up, nodding as he approached.

"Ah, Lieutenant, good to see you again. Gentlemen, this is Lieutenant Carth Onasi, my leader of intelligence and my aide."

There were polite murmurs which Carth tried to ignore, he did not know most of the men here well, just acquaintances really, he had had little contact with the soldiers other than the Colonel. And he was indeed an aide to the Colonel but his job had sounded vastly more interesting than it was; he had had little to go on for weeks. The abruptness of the meeting and the presence of two Republic officers however, did not bode well.

"Lieutenant, this is Lieutenant Colonel Gaston Greves, head of Republic operations in this sector." The man nodded his grey haired head, the grey eyes, deep and troubled. "And this is Captain Taal Remar, an engineer on loan from the Sixth Corps. They are here to oversee out operations and advice on the severity of the problems at hand." Which meant in Carth's mind, they were here to take over from the amateur colonials who could not be relied upon to do anything. The Colonel, indicated this with a pleading look, a cigarra in his mouth. Carth took the hint and bowed slightly.

"Pleased to be acquainted sir," he said formally. Carth had not thrived at school but had done well enough to be in the top half of all his classes, enough to be recognised for his skills. But he still had little or no chance of becoming what he wanted, a Republic soldier.

Telos was dull, the revolution was the first thing that had happened in twenty years, and it was likely that nothing would happen for many years again. The planet was not rich or populous enough to demand attention on a galaxy wide scale. Carth considered it was either be a soldier or be a merchantman but he had no real desire to do that.

"Yes anyway, Colonel Greves would like to inform us of the latest developments." Farin blew out the smoke from his lungs, coughed and looked to the Republic man in his green uniform.

"Thank you kindly Colonel, I have here, new information from my superiors at command. Such discontent is happening all over the galaxy, we have reports of forty one different attempts by someone to cause problems. Based on the MO of the groups and the coordination they possess, I can only assume that the Sith are involved."

The local men, a major, two captains and a couple of second lieutenants nodded in shocked silence, appalled fascination at the concept. Colonel Greves pushed back his greying hair, he looked about fifty with a grey moustache and short beard. "Because this planet successfully avoided problems the last time we fought them, we believe it is clear that the enemy is trying to get revenge here. How they intend to do that is a mystery but we have ways of finding this out."

"But if they announce themselves, surely that would break the terms of the Treaty of Commenor sir," Carth put in. All eyes turned to him, expecting him to back down, he didn't budge. Eventually Greves nodded.

"Well done Lieutenant, and you are right of course. But they only want anarchy and chaos, not to start a war. The Sith are an unreliable bunch, full of radical splinters. We believe one of the most active ones is operating here, Crimson Shadow. The same group that committed that massacre on Tarbinal II a year or so ago. We defeated their branch there with some help from the locals but their man got away, we believe he is here, on Telos."

"So who are we looking for Colonel?" Farin asked, he was a short man but his blunt manner and personality made him seem just as large as the Republic man.

"His name is Quoll Le'vert, and we think he may even be a dark force adept, he is rarely seen in battle but we figure he has to have some tricks up his sleeve."

"So how many men are we talking Colonel?"

"Well, we believe he has about eighty men personally with many more who are converted locals."

"And what does he plan?" asked the local Major, the head of palace security.

"We don't know, we figure he has a set up somewhere outside the city. Map please Captain, you tell them."

The younger captain, his brown hair unwieldy took out a holographic projector and set it on the table. He activated it to show a very good three dimensional map of the surrounding twenty miles.

The land around the city was as different as could be; to the west and south was a vast saltwater bay leading out to the sea. There were many islands in the bay, many of the men feared it would be the perfect place to hide the Shadow's operations. To the east was a vast network of hills and forests, impossible terrain to track an enemy. Then, to the north was a vast area of swamps, rivers and muddy deltas, impassable to tracked vehicles or infantry.

"Three places, three awful locations they could set up. We know it is here because they speak of being very close to the city, other than that, they use codes that make no sense. They are strictly military type setups here, high encryption, good organisation, we need a break." The Captain laid down the gloomy facts as the other officers watched. "We have no clue, each one of these three places would be impossible search without knowing we might find something. Lieutenant, you have had no word?"

"None sir, though they must have a base in the city somewhere."

The Republic Colonel gave Carth an appraising look, "you are quite correct Lieutenant. We have had more success here though. We intercepted transmissions, they were using a Sith code from the last war and we cracked it. It was the only one we have picked out so far, it must have been a mistake."

"Or not," Farin said grimly, "likely it is a trap."

"Truth, but do we have a choice?" Greves asked with a shrug.

"Where does it place it?" the Major asked.

"That is the thing, it gives a list of meaningless sentences, three of them."

"Tell us, if these bastards want to play riddles then we will see what we can do," Farin grumbled.

"It is a message to their leader with their location, presumably they move base often. A head, a tail, nothing between. Then, I bow but have no back. Lastly, three brothers I am, rock, liquor and cloud."

The military men looked at each other as though it was a crude joke, which it was. They looked utterly askance, Carth racked his brains trying to think of something to pin it on.

"Captain, sir, you have a map of the city?" Carth asked, breaking the strange silence that had pervaded in the room.

Captain Remar nodded, shaking off the strange lethargy and produced a second holographic map, this one of the city.

The city was vaguely round in shape, leading onto the saltwater bay and broken by a river than ran through the city. It was a large city, some three hundred thousand citizens, the largest on the planet, dominated by landmarks. Carth looked over the city he had known his whole life, thinking of the clues. They were references of some sort, perhaps he could triangulate their location if he solved the puzzle.

"Well Lieutenant? Any ideas?" Colonel Farin asked bluntly.

"Yes sir, the first one has to be a coin. Heads, tails and nothing between. Yes, a coin, which indicates the treasury, here." He made a pointing motion at the map, just a half mile from the palace."

Colonel Greves looked interested but said nothing.

"Then there is the next one, bow, bow like an arch." Carth looked down at the map, he saw what he was looking for, the Arch of Heroes. "The monument, the Triumphal Arch, the only one in the city which means the line goes to here." He fiddled with the holograph to join the dots together."

"Three brothers," Greves said, "water. Ice, water, steam. What fits that Lieutenant?"

"The distillation plant," Farin and Carth said together.

"It distils seawater into fresh water, by the docks, here."

Carth joined the last line and smiled, a right angled triangle and in the centre, the target.

"The archives," Farin said flatly. "Where else?"

The Republic men looked at him oddly. "And?" Greves finally asked.

"That was where our entry to the Republic was proclaimed. Where the two hundred men left to fight for the Republic." Carth spoke quietly, the Republic men nodded, comprehension dawning.

"Then we attack tonight," Farin said briskly. "I'll have my men in for a night assault."

The sun was sinking fast behind the eastern horizon as Carth finally reached the temporary headquarters of the Telosian Defence Forces, the TDF. Colonel Farin looked up, nodding at Carth, he was alone except for Colonel Greves.

"Lieutenant, we were just going over the final plans, since you are my Intel man, you are going with our boys."

"Yes sir," Carth said, not stating that he was a boy himself compared to most men in the TDF.

The holo-screen before them bore a good image of the three storied library and archives. The library had been closed since a mysterious fire had guttered several room a month before. Everything important had been removed to a temporary place, pending rebuilding by construction teams. If the enemy really was there, they were choosing a fairly obvious hiding place; that meant they had some tricks up their sleeves.

The library was a three storied stone building, surrounded by a wide yard studded with trees and hedges. A heavy metal gate barred access to the wide opening whilst windows covered every inch of the approach route.

"It'll be a bastard to take Colonel," Farin said, his normal lack of tact ever present.

"Indeed, we need to divert their attention at the front whilst we storm them from the rear."

"There are no windows on the first floor," Carth said practically.

"A precaution against thieves," Farin said.

"We have two hundred men, if they stop our thrust, then we will lose them all."

Carth frowned, "sewers."

"Sewers?" Farin demanded. "There are no tunnels that lead below there, it is on the plans."

"There was two years ago," Carth said.

Greves cocked his head to one side, "tell me of these passages, Lieutenant," he said, overriding Farin's objections.

Carth looked at the map of the sewers, superimposed over the map of the area around the library; he pointed to a bend. "Here, there is a old tunnel from the first city here. I have studied the reports, I was the person in charge of security to the city. I had it blocked up and covered over."

Greves looked up at Farin who was still smarting from being out ranked by the Colonel. The worst thing was that Greves was not his superior, although all Republic soldiers counted as one rank higher against civilian ranks.

"Lieutenant Onasi, take some of my marines down there and come up through the tunnels. If they lead into the library then we can gut them from inside."

"I am ready Colonel," Carth said.

"Then go get ready, meet us down by the forward checkpoint in half an hour."

"Yes sir," Carth said and moved out of the temporary headquarters, it seemed his boring job had come in handy after all.

Carth moved down, to be greeted by Greves himself, the man was in battle uniform, looking impressive with the three silver stars on his epaulets. Carth carried on his back a standard issue carbine, a pistol at his side and a short sword hanging from his belt. Under the blue jacket was light reflective scale armour, designed to dissipate blaster rounds, he wore no other protection.

"Ah, Lieutenant, my drop ships are landing the marines as we speak. We have a moment or so to talk."

The distant library was a darkening shape against the setting sun, an ominous shape. The Shadows must know they were surrounded, they had made no move yet but the sight of TDF troops and the lack of civilians would have confirmed this.

"Of course sir, is everything ready?"

"It is, I have some assault vehicles ready to smash down the gates. It will be up to your men to get in and pinch the info we need, then help us break in if we need it."

"Yes sir," Carth wondered why the man was talking to him, he soon found out though.

"I was impressed by your efforts before Lieutenant, if you are right, then you may have helped us win twice. I see you are well established here but what of the future?"

"I hadn't really thought of it sir. There is nothing I would really rather do, I suppose I just got lucky here."

"Perhaps you did Lieutenant, perhaps you did. But why not join the Republic? We value good men, that Captain you saw before, he was a sergeant five years ago. And engineering is not easy, the most difficult of all the jobs."

Carth kept his face neutral, "I don't have the money sir. Even if I did, I don't know if I could leave everything behind, I mean, war or peace there is no looking back is there?"

"That depends on what you mean by that. Here you serve your people, you do it well but with us, you could serve the galaxy."

"I don't even have the money sir. I looked into it, the Academy requires more money than I can dream of, I am not a rich man. My father is failing, and besides that, I have nothing. Even this uniform was provided by the Colonel."

Greves nodded slowly, "I see the problem Lieutenant. Would you consider it if you had the means to do so?"

"Yes sir, I would. The Republic helped this planet before I was born, I saw the impact of the Sith attack. Even when I was six or seven I still saw ruined buildings, that is not what I want. What I want is to help people, to protect them."

"Then perhaps-" Greves began, he was cut off by a breathless Second Lieutenant who saluted and handed him a message.

The Colonel read it, his eyes widened and he handed the datapad to Carth who read it himself.

"Dismissed Lieutenant," Greves said and the excited man disappeared into the darkness.

"Is this true sir? It says he is here in person, I though we could not crack their codes?"

"It seems our men finally traced it down and did their homework. Good, good, so Le'vert is here is he? Good, we shall bag the whole crowd."

"What if it's a trap sir?"

"We are already attacking, if he is not there, then we will get him next time. That makes your mission even more important, Lieutenant; find him and bring him out alive. But do not strain yourself, the shot you fire will only save a firing squad the bolt it uses."

"Sir, Ensign Hiller reporting sir," a man of about eighteen saluted, his voice uncomfortably loud.

"Quiet lad, you want up to know we're coming? You have my men?"

"Yes sir, seventeenth company, third battalion sir," Greves sighed at the excessive military tact.

"You are under Lieutenant Onasi's orders here, off you go Lieutenant, we will talk once this is over.

Carth sighed, he could still smell the sewers despite the oxygen mask he wore over his mouth. He had ten marines and an old sergeant, all he could get but it was enough, the marines were the best men that would fight today. Used to hazardous landings and narrow ships as their battlegrounds, they were ready and able to fight in the sewers. The men wore crimson plated armour, helmets with low light and infrared goggles and carried repeating blasters, heavy weapons that could cut down a platoon in a few seconds. These men, transferred from the _Liberty_, the light cruiser orbiting the planet, were all veterans and their presence reassured Carth.

For near a half hour he had trudged through the long and low passages of the sewers, the smell overwhelming him, forcing him to use his oxygen tank to stop himself fainting. Finally, he came to the bend where he knew the tunnel was, he stopped and brushed away some slime with his gloved hand.

"Is this the place sir?" the Sergeant asked, his voice metallic behind the helmet.

Carth nodded, he looked again and found the rough differences in the stonework between the new and the old. The repairers had done well and Carth would not have seen it if he had not known where to look.

"Yes, do you have a detonator?" he asked, his voice steady and calm.

"It will alert the enemy to the movement," the Sergeant said wearily.

"We don't have time to break it down, besides, there is a fire fight going on top. The enemy will miss it. Even if they do, it will all be better for us."

"Yes sir, stand back." The Sergeant drew a palm sized circular object and pushed it onto the wall. The machine clicked, then the marines were running back, the Sergeant put himself in front of Carth, facing him so the blast would be absorbed by the man's armour.

There was a loud crack, the rumble, a gust of smoke and then silence. The wall was in ruins, the two foot thick masonry torn apart by the power of the blast, there was no alarm, no cries. There was only the distant sound of firing and detonations from the main assault.

Carth's communicator clicked, he brought it up. "Lieutenant Onasi," he said quietly.

"Lieutenant, my men are drawing their fire, are you in position?" Greves voice came across the channel.

"Yes sir, the tunnel was here as I said, we are moving into position. I look to your support."

"You shall have it, Greves out."

Carth pocketed the communicator and pulled the mask from his face. He turned to the marines who were moving through the hole, taking up covering positions over the darkened passage within,

"Come on, let's go," he said, taking the lead, he was in a cellar of the library, all he had to do was go up. Carth drew his carbine and moved forward, the marines following in his wake.

The sound of battle was intensifying, showing that the TDF was making a concerted effort to break through the defences, Carth knew he had little time, he moved through the stone basement till he came to a stairway.

"Sergeant, we go in, three marks and two tens, take half your men and open a path. I'll take the others and find the leader."

"Yes sir, we'll cover you."

Carth detailed five of the men to follow him, they climbed the stairs, pushing into a small dusty workroom, then he was going up the next set of stairs and pushing into the next room.

The room was a hospital, a half dozen Shadows lay, wounded on the floor. Bandaged wounds and burns spoke of the savage fighting on the surface. One of them looked up, seemed to gag, then reached for his pistol. He was hindered by his broken shoulder though and was unable to cry a warning or arm himself before he was shot down. The wounded men woke, saw the Republic marines and tried to cry out their surrenders but they did not get the chance, the five marines each fired once. Carth looked appalled at the callous killing of the unarmed men. The marines seemed unworried, they were men who dealt with the realities of battle every day, such things were necessary.

Carth set his face, knowing he had to push on, "come on."

Moving out onto the ground floor, Carth could see the interior of the library itself. Three stories, though the centre of the top floors was open so that those above could look down. Wood and stone were much in evidence around the rooms, smoke filled them and the cheers and screams of the combatants could be clearly heard. The room was twenty yards long from where Carth stood to the front doorway. There were stairs to left and right, stairs that the rest of the marines were now coming up. Carth smiled, he had no idea where Le'vert was but he would sure as hell find out.

"Marine, blow open the far door, the rest of you, find cover and fire at will."

One of the marines brought up a heavy missile launcher, solid explosives were still used on tanks as they were not as easy to guard against as blaster shots. The missile made a hissing noise, flying across the room to smash into the heavy doors; there was a loud detonation as the door and lintel were torn apart by the explosive warhead. Cries of surprise sounded as Shadow looked down to see the enemy in their midst, Carth ordered his men to fire.

A hail of repeating blaster fire sliced out into the smoky room, the enemy fire was desultory, their surprise was evident.

"Sergeant! Take the men up the steps, fire at will!" he shouted and leapt to go first.

Carth ran up the stairs, his short blaster rifle out as he reached the second floor, anarchy reigned now as the TDF and Republic troops were breaking in. Shots were flying with lethal randomness, a marine next to him was hit in the leg. The man cursed as he fell, blinding firing at shapes above them.

The Shadows, know their base was breached were on the run, short fire fights erupted everywhere in the building as the Telosian troops, angered by their losses, drove through into the vast library. Carth ran up the next flight of stairs, his gun still unfired, moving to the top floor. Here, a group of Shadows were firing down on those below, the return fire less than the shots they were unleashing.

One of them saw Carth and fired, he swore he felt the bolt slice past his face as he ducked into cover. The stairways provided good cover fro him as he returned fire with the carbine. Two other Shadows turned on him, they were wild looking men with scared faces and black robes and carrying blasters. The shots hissed passed him, Carth continued to return fire until he saw one of the men struck in the forehead, his head disintegrating into bloody meat. Carth drew a grenade from his belt and hurled it towards the enemy, the enemy saw it and tried to get away but they were too late, the explosion felled the two of them and put a few others to flight. Rising, Lieutenant Onasi ran across to the stairs to the uppermost rooms, he knew that was where their leader would be. Around him, the battle was ending and the toll could start to be counted. Carth dropped the carbine and drew his pistol, heading to the stairs.

The upper room was a long and low room with illumination only from the lights of the moons and the city outside. Carth could see a tall, black haired figure at the opposite end, staring out across the grounds of the library. Now he looked, Carth saw dead men strewn over the cobblestones, several assault vehicles also burned, the machines trapped as they had tried to assault the front gates. Now men were pouring into the lower room, Carth knew he had only to hold this man for a few moments.

"So Lieutenant, are you going to shoot me where I stand?" the man who had to be Quoll Le'vert asked innocently.

"If you don't give me any cause, no. I'll only be saving a firing squad from the paperwork."

"Well that is comforting you know," he said laconically.

"I thought so. Keep your hands where I can see them and turn around," Carth ordered, aiming the gun at the man's chest.

"If you insist Lieutenant, I thought we might have a civilised chat, no? Well I see no backup yet, perhaps you will permit me to say a few words?"

"You may as well, the dead don't speak," Carth said, annoyed that this man was so calm about the slaughter inflicted outside.

"An easily apparent fact, Carth Onasi," he said and turned.

Quoll Le'vert was a tall man who wore black formal dress and had no obvious weapons nearby. He looked a handsome, persuasive man with a quick smile and gentle voice; however much he smiled though, it never reached his grey eyes.

"You know my name?"

"I know many things my boy, things you would not understand. Does this surprise you?"

"Stay where you are," Carth ordered as he raised the gun.

The man shrugged, "You soldiers and your guns. Perhaps if we did not have that distraction?" he asked curiously.

Le'vert lifted his hand and held it out, a brief tic crossed his face before the weapon was ripped free of Carth's grip, flying across the room to Le'vert. Carth gulped as the man removed the power cell and threw it aside.

"You're a Jedi?" Carth asked, reaching for his sword, he had to leave, he would stand no chance against a proper force user.

"Me? A Jedi? No my boy, I picked up a few tricks whilst I carried out my various activities."

Carth moved back towards the door which went down a set of stairs inside the room, hoping to escape.

Le'vert made another pass and the heavy door closed and locked; Carth started to move towards it but was picked up and thrown at the wall opposite the windows. He slowly staggered upright to find Le'vert blocking his exit, he drew his sword, the other man simply smiled.

"You do not give up do you? I like that in a man. Now, I have an important date elsewhere, I do not wish your death so do not obstruct me."

"You bastard, how can you be so calm after all those men you killed tonight?" Carth snarled.

"Ah, the impatience of youth yes? Death is merely the start young man, casualties are necessary to achieve goals."

"While I live I am not letting you walk away. Where to anyway?"

Le'vert pointed to the far end of the room where a small doorway stood. "A small ship is all I need, these men are expendable. Goodbye Lieutenant," he said and moved away.

Carth stepped forward and sliced the blade at waist height, the vibroblade humming through the air as it activated. Quoll Le'vert turned with impossible swiftness, stepping back to let the cut past and then slammed Onasi in the stomach with a kick. Following up, he punched the solider in the face then slammed him in the jaw to floor him.

Carth was up again, his rage guiding him but this time his weapon was stopped. In fact, it was destroyed, a red beam of light emerged from the man's hand, blocking the vibroblade in mid swing. The lightsabre shore through it like it was no harder than paper, the discharge shocking Carth enough for him to drop the hilt. Carth had heard that there were weapons that could stop such attacks but Carth could not afford such a luxury. After all, he had never even seen a force adept before. Le'vert swung but the soldier fell backward to avoid it, again the hand came up and Carth was slammed into the wall again, this time he could not summon the will to get up. Le'vert began to cross towards the defenceless soldier, his weapon out. When he was about eight feet away, there was a crunch from the room's door. The wooden door held but bent before the onslaught. The Dark Jedi looked down, seemingly wondering if he should move forward and slash down. The door splintered and harsh orders sounded outside.

The lightsabre retracted, Quoll Le'vert smiled sadly, then frowned as the door to the room banged. The barrier would only hold for a few seconds more and the force user had no wish to be caught, he turned to Carth.

"We shall meet again Lieutenant, do not fear, the Sith do not forget their enemies." Then he was gone in a swirl of elegant black cloak.

Carth, his abused body exhausted, slid into blackness as new voices entered the room.

His first impression was that of light, near blinding to his eyes. Then he felt for his injuries, finding them remarkable painless, he made a sighing sound and tried to sit up.

"Easy lad, that was quite a clout you were dealt." A gentle voice broke into his fogged thoughts, a familiar voice, his father.

Carth turned his head to see the old man sitting next to the bed with a wistful smile on his face; Drein Onasi held out his hand.

"Welcome back son, the doctor said he didn't expect to see you up so soon but I knew you were as tough and stubborn as I ever was." His father had a keen happiness in his voice, Carth struggled to speak.

"What happened?" he asked harshly, his throat parched. His father handed him a glass, the water sooting in his dry mouth.

"All I know is that you were cracked on the skull a few times and got that sword of mine cut in half."

"He was a Sith, a lightsabre, where is he?"

"I don't know, the Colonel wanted to talk to you when you were up. I'll go get him."

"Father, thank you," Carth said. The older man smiled and walked from the room.

Looking down, Carth saw his uniform laid beside him, the stain of sewer and blood washed from it. He was in a medical wing of the palace he realised, the cots of other men were spaced out around him. Carth grimaced, the room was open to the sky, protected only by a few layers of permaglass, he wondered if he could stand. The Lieutenant slowly climbed to his feet, his injuries had been light but the impact on his skull had knocked him unconscious, concussing him and allowing the enemy to escape. Carth stood, he looked at his chronometer, he had been asleep for near twelve hours he reckoned. The moans of the wounded came from around him, to block them out, he swiftly dressed, his uniform feeling natural as he straightened up. Tying his boots, Carth walked from the sickroom.

"Lieutenant? Your father said you were a tough nail, you are well?" Colonel Greves, his uniform now a parade dress version of his regular outfit, walked towards him. The man looked tired but relieved also.

"Colonel sir, how did we go?"

Greves looked like he had been expecting the question. "We did well, I received reinforcements from Sector Command, I have two thousand men combing the wilderness for their base. But with Quoll Le'vert gone they should not be a problem."

"Did, did he escape?" Carth asked, the Colonel's face fell slightly.

"Yes, he had a prototype fighter which he escaped in. The _Liberty_ was not expecting a break out and did not have time to catch him, he is gone. But he won't be coming back soon, his network had been broken and his people surrendering. They don't want to be shot as traitors so we give them leniency."

"I saw the wounded, how many?" Carth asked.

"Seventy four killed or wounded so far. Twenty one dead, not good Lieutenant. This world is saved at least for now. Thanks to you."

"I did my duty sir, I don't want undue praise."

"And you shall not get it," Greves said. "But where it is due, I give it as I see it, you did well, damn well."

"He was a Sith sir, he told me. I always thought they were just legends, the force. He tossed me around like a child though."

Greves nodded, "Aye, it always comes as a shock. And it explains the power he has over his people and why he was so hard to pin down. But you faced him, alone. Surviving a one on one combat with a Dark Jedi is not something most can claim in their first battle."

"Yes sir, it still seems like defeat, you know, he still got away."

"He might have got away but we still won. No battle goes smoothly, seventy dead and wounded men speak for that."

He took Carth's shoulder and led him to the window overlooking the city; smoke was still gently drifting over the library. Uniformed troops of the TDF were patrolling the streets, otherwise it was a regular morning in Ankifor.

"I think we need to talk about your future Carth, I promised to talk to you after the battle."

"I know what you would say Colonel but although it would seem like wisdom, I am wary."

Greves nodded, "I am not forcing you, you have exceptional talent. There are only one man in twenty that could do what you did with so little experience. You could be a valuable asset to the Republic."

"But Telos is my home Colonel. Is it right that I should up and go?"

"The military is not a prison, we are not like the Jedi. You have, in peacetime anyway, two months furlough a year. But with us, you shall serve many places." Greves looked the Lieutenant in the eye, "What would you think of yourself if Le'vert damaged another world?"

"I do not have the money and-" Carth said.

"Think of the Republic Carth, a thousand worlds held together by diplomacy and little else. In all that, do you realise how many have the dream you do? We set the bar high so that only the select get in, not ideal but those who are unsuited are soon weeded out. With the recommendation of an officer however, everything changes. I can get you in for qualification at least."

Carth looked at the man, his gaze surprised. "I would like that sir, I would indeed."

Greves held out his hand to his new recruit; Carth Onasi, no longer a Telosian had entered a wider stage. A Republic Officer was born.

**Well, hope you liked it. Please review if you can.**

**LV**


	3. Chapter 3

ether-fanfic – I'm glad you liked it, so I am. I tried to make this story different, both in tone and characterisation. Hopefully, I succeed. Long chapters are good. One thing I do not like is stories with more chapters than they have thousands of words. Why not combine all the paragraphs together?

Thanks, and hope you like this chapter.

Trunxluvr – My Revan is the same age as Carth – thirty eight at the start of KOTOR. Which means he is eighteen at the start of the story. I wanted a mature, experienced and even slightly bitter Revan who knows how to fight. It also means that Revan has a chance to become experienced fighting and be a good Jedi Knight before the Mandalore Wars start. I don't know, I just cannot image a twenty year old man in such a good position in the military.

Glad you liked it.

Prisoner24601 – Of course I'm not sick of your comments! I thank you for the review, and everything else you have done for me. Hope you continue to like the story.

This chapter flicks back to Revan. And the first steps towards a different path? Perhaps.

Chapter 3 – Six months later. (K-17)

The room was a gloomy and dangerous place, illuminated only by a few dull lamps. Suddenly, a bolt of red light shot from the gloom and seared across the room, heading towards its target. Before it could reach there, a blinding emerald light erupted and intercepted it. Everything happened so fast, the red bolt blocked and absorbed quicker than a heart beat. There was no chance to pause though as a half dozen other bolts shot through the gloom, aiming to strike the shadowy figure with its emerald blade; not one shot hit. Reflecting with extreme grace, the blade came full circle and saluted.

The lights came on, showing a small room, whitewashed and tiled. There was a second shift and the near invisible coverings over the windows and door were drawn aside.

"You did well Revan, you are finally seeing with the force and not your eyes." Mirar Levarne said, coming from the shadows, holding a small black box. The attacker, a small white sphere hung motionless in the aim opposite him.

"I would not say I exerted myself Master," he said with a tinge of arrogance.

Mirar sighed, Revan had changed in three years; he was not the same boy he had been before he became a Padawan. His natural gift in using the force had always held the dangers of such behaviour, but she had thought he might avoid it. Whilst not as bad as many of his age, he still had great pride in his skills, pride which lead to a superior attitude. It was not that he actually looked down on people, it was the slight inflection of innocent words, the slight twisting of the corner of the mouth. The look he gave that made him seem to be silently laughing at those around him.

"Perhaps not, but that is not what is important Revan. You deflected all the shots but that was not the lesson, the lesson is control and using the force."

"Yes Master, but the aim was to defeat the machine?"

"No Padawan, the aim was to advance yourself and your knowledge."

"Do you wish me to try again?" he asked in a half challenge.

"Let go of your feelings Revan, pride and fear and arrogance lead to the darkside. It will twist you, only by seeing the light can you understand what you must do." She did not mention that she worried about his pride and arrogance turning him; she did not need to say such a thing.

"I apologise Master, I must learn control."

"Yes, you must, without it, you are a danger to all those around you. Without control and order, there is chaos." She picked the control up and fiddled with it for a moment, there was another click somewhere at the far side of the room. "Now let us see how you do again, focus and control yourself."

The small remote hummed to life but it was hard to see now the bright morning light was flooding into the room. It darted forward, three red bolts spat from holes on its side, aimed to hit Revan. With a step back and a trio of whirling cuts, the Padawan parried every shot, the beams disappearing as the lightsabre intercepted them. Revan moved as if in a trance, his blade parrying and blocking for a full minute before he sensed another danger.

Swiftly he turned and parried the shot from behind a second remote was now adding its fire. Revan had long concentrated on the focusing of the force, not on the physical aspect of training. Now, he simply was not able to parry the shots from two directions at once, he ground his teeth and cast around for something to help him. A shot flew within a half inch of his cheek, the shot was non-lethal of course but still stung him with static discharge as it passed. Staggering, two bolts hit his legs, Revan grunted as he forced himself to stand, then he found what he was looking for. Mirar did not call the machines off yet, he wanted to see if her student would admit the error in his ways or if he would stubbornly fight on. Then he did something unexpected.

The tiled floor was old and cracked in places from repeated use over the last two decades, there was a spare tile sitting in the corner. Revan reached out his hand and summoned his power. The tile lifted itself and flew across the room, moving like a comet to smash one remote into jagged wires and broken metal. Mirar was so surprised that she did nothing, the second droid continued its attack, Revan hung his weapon from his belt and held out his hand once more. The droid continued to fire, but now the ceramic square blocked every move, then, with a flick of the wrist, the remote was struck heavily on the side. It lost control and fell to the ground, sparking; Mirar looked up in surprise.

"Revan? What did you think you were doing?" she snapped, then calmed herself.

Revan sighed and knelt down to start picking up the pieces, his Master knelt down beside him.

"Why Revan? You know that the force is not a weapon, why do you struggle with it? It is the servant of nobody, you must abandon this notion of victory and glory, it shall not help you. It will only make you less of a person then you are now. You could have concentrated, could have focussed to defeat it but instead you chose the simple path."

Revan played absently with a piece of broken wire, not meeting her gaze. "It just felt so natural Master. I wanted to win, to show you I could." He sighed and stood, "I did win though."

"It was not a competition Revan. Or at least, it was but not the way you thought. I wanted to see how you would handle defeat, what you would do. I can see that you do not want defeat, that you will fight to avoid it."

"I am sorry Master. There is nothing I can say that will change what has happened."

Mirar frowned, that was the sort of nebulous comment he always said at such times. In truth he had been a quick learner, eager for knowledge but still, there was something about him. Mirar wondered if she was the right person to be his Master, perhaps she was not as ready as she had thought.

"Do not trouble yourself Master, I am aware of what you wanted of me. I think now I understand, I have never taken defeat well."

"You learn Revan and yet I still sense that you hide something from me. What is it that troubles you?"

Revan's face did not change, "it is nothing important."

"Promise me you will tell me if something wrong," she appealed but her student shook his head.

"I will not make a promise I cannot keep." The words were very serious and very calm; there was a chilliness in his eyes that she had not seen before.

"Revan-" she began but he waved his hand at her.

"No Master, I will be fine. I will clean up here, do not trouble yourself with me."

"Then I will see you this afternoon."

"I will be there Master," he said blandly.

Mirar frowned but let it go, Revan did not seem upset, just, distant. And that was far more worrying to her eyes. She had to seek advice.

Mirar Levarne knocked on the door before her; after a moment a voice called for her to enter, she walked into the room and stood before its sole occupant. It was a small room, used for small meetings of the council and other such people. The only person in the room looked up as the Jedi Knight entered.

"Ah, Jedi Levarne, what brings you here to me so early?"

The speaker was a four foot tall alien of indeterminable age or race, green-brown skin with prominent ears and three clawed limbs. Master Vandar Tolkare was a Jedi Master of considerable age and renown, a Jedi of the first order and a keen guide to the minds of those around him. Vandar was a Jedi who embodied the word, councillor, his wisdom was respected by almost all of the Jedi. For the last several years he had been searching for a place to set up a new enclave; his findings were matters for the council but he had seemed pleased since his return.

"Forgive me Master, but there is a matter I must speak of with you."

"Then come and tell me what troubles you child," he said kindly, sitting opposite the chair she took.

"It is about my Padawan Master…." She trailed off, looking up to see his large eyes on her.

"And he troubles you? I sense unease about you child, what is wrong?"

Mirar shrugged slightly, "nothing, or maybe something. He just seems to get very distant sometimes, like he wants to say something but won't."

"This is indeed disturbing child, what do you think shadows him?"

"I do not believe it is anything harmful, just like he is hiding a question he thinks I will not treat seriously. I have tried to get him to tell me but he refuses, he says it is not important."

"Such feelings are dangerous. If unchecked, it may grow in him and poison his will. I will talk with him if I may."

"I would be happy if you would Master. Some of the time he seems, well, arrogant, superior to others in his mind."

"A far too common trait to those with power such as he. He has control but he also has great affinity to the force, the two must match or else it will be out of balance. Perhaps some time out of the Temple will help him understand the real world."

"Master, I do not know if he is ready, I mean-" she said but stopped when the Jedi shook his head.

"No child, he must learn to be ready, and I think he is."

"As you say Master," Mirar said doubtfully but nonetheless bowed her head.

"You shall be with him child, as will his friend," Vandar said comfortingly.

"Master, I do not know about Padawan Nantaris, he seems to rash, too headstrong."

"And you fear he will lead young Morantine away on some foolhardy quest?"

"I am not sure Master. I just think that the two of them might cause problems."

A small smile touched the face of the Jedi Master, as he looked at the younger woman's concerned grimace and nodded. "You are protective of him child, but do not let that cloud your judgement. The two of you have an understanding that is good, and you even endorse his alias, something that many on the council disapproves of. You are not immune to the temptation of the darkness, remember that."

"I know that Master, whilst I may seem to be easier on him than many believe is necessary I have a specific aim in mind. Whatever he is hiding would only grow worse and he would only grow more stubborn if I tried to force him to a stricter set of codes."

"You show wisdom that even many of my brethren cannot see. Yes I see that in you now. See that you keep an eye on both the future and the present."

"I shall Master, thank you."

"Send him to me when you find him." Vandar said and sat back, closing his eyes in meditation.

"If I find him," Mirar muttered and walked out of the room.

In reality there was only one place that Revan could be, with Valiens Nantaris on the exposed balcony where Revan had first learned of his parent's death. The other Padawan waited with his arms folded in front of him; he smiled as the slightly dirtied Revan appeared on the roof top.

"A little late aren't you?" he commented dryly. His accent was slowly fading against the constant exposure to the harder accent of Coruscant. Valiens remained the same, almost; his humour remained but now it was tempered with a sardonic edge. His Master disapproved of his use wit and display but Valiens continued to do so, even if just to his close friend. Valiens was not as proficient in the force but was the swordsman of the pair. They would be a good team if they ever fought beside one another.

"I destroyed two of my Master's training droids."

Valiens raised an eyebrow in amusement, "hard day at work, eh?"

"She was using two droids against me, and I used the force to disable them."

Nantaris shook his head with a chuckle, "I bet that made her happy. So you are late because you cleared it all up? What a good boy you are," he said sarcastically.

"None of that Valiens, remember, you owe me?" Revan said meaningfully.

"Oh that? Perhaps we can just forget-" Valiens said quickly.

"Just because you do not like somebody does not mean you can put that in their food," Revan said meaningfully.

"But you haven't told anybody?" Valiens asked, knowing well enough that the younger man hadn't.

"Of course not, and yes, I did clear up the mess."

Revan held out his hand, two of the balconies' tiles beginning a slow orbit of each other in mid-air. The black haired man smiled and let them fall. Valiens just shook his head.

"Still checking to make sure it works? Now I reckon your Master would not be that pleased if she caught you doing that."

"I do not see her, do you Valiens?" Revan asked rhetorically.

"You've changed a lot from the lad I first met here."

"And you have not changed at all," Revan said archly.

"Ah, get off the moral high ground already Ghost, you're the one with the Alias you insist on people using."

"Well I suppose I am just special am I not?" Revan asked, consciously making his words formal and still to irritate the other Jedi.

"Yeah, yeah, so did you learn anything today apart from busting something that costs more credits than you possess."

"So how do the Jedi get money?" Revan asked curiously.

"I'm sure I don't want to know," Valiens retorted. "Besides, you are diverting me, what did you learn?"

"Nothing that changes what happened last time Valiens, I won, remember?"

"I remember nothing of the sort, you tricked me."

"A Jedi uses whatever resources are at hand," Revan stated in a rough approximation of the fearsome Vrook Lamar.

"Then are you ready to put that to the test?"

"It would not please the council," Revan said, his voice unconcerned as though it was expected that he say it.

"Well I ain't forcing you, friend. But since they don't let us do it normally, why not?" Valiens asked genuinely.

Revan thought and then stepped back and held the hilt of his weapon in his hand, unlit as yet. Nantaris moved back ten paces and drew his own weapon, the yellow blade so far also hidden.

"We take it slow Nantaris, a call to stop means just that, understand?"

Valiens grinned, the Revan he had first met occasionally surfaced but the man facing him was different in many ways from the eighteen year old who had just become a Padawan.

Revan held out he weapon and ignited it. The green blade was bright in the midday light. Valiens mirrored his move, his golden blade hissing out before him.

Revan brought his blade up, saluted and moved to the attack, the blades clashed with a squeal of energy fields. Valiens was by far the better fighter against many foes, able to block shots from several directions but Revan could fight against one foe. And he fought against a single opponent with poise and precision, his defence was a wall, his attacks, pointed. Valiens pulled back after a moment, nodding his brown haired head in appreciation.

"Very good lad, you can fight one on one but can you fight two on one?"

"I would not know, Nantaris," Revan said archly.

Battle was joined once more, Revan was driven back before the superior fighting skills of his friend, where as Nantaris was weaker in his use of the force, he was a cunning fighter. Revan fought back but eventually, he stepped back and called a halt. The last thing he wanted was an injury to be blamed on him or his friend.

"You win Nantaris," Revan said, unruffled.

"You're improving, Ghost," he replied sardonically.

"Do not call me Ghost, call me Revan," the blue eyed man said in irritation.

"Revan? What are you doing?" a stern voice called from the doorway.

Revan turned, his weapon still active and smiled. "Master Levarne, I am pleased to see you," he said calmly.

Valiens deactivated his own blade as the exasperated Jedi Knight moved onto the balcony, she certainly did not look pleased.

"I was looking for you Revan, and here I find you, duelling with another Jedi? With a full powered weapon no less, do you realise the consequences of one mistake?"

"I would assume injury or death would result, am I right?" he asked.

Valiens shook his head, stepping out of range. Mirar Levarne ignored him, she had felt a terrible fear in her heart when she had felt the release of energy from the balcony, a fear that no code could cover. She was annoyed, angry even but she slowly gained control of herself, taking deep breaths until she could talk reasonably again.

"I will be pleased if you do not take that tone of voice with me again, Padawan. You of all people, surely you know the rules, the codes for your protection?"

"I do Master, I do."

"Then why? Why do this now? This is the first time isn't it?"

"No Master," he said with an irritating calm. A sort of insouciant arrogance was conveyed through the words.

Mirar sighed, shaking her head, "Revan, you have held the course for so long but now I sense something in you. Something has changed in you." She looked around at Valiens, "and you Padawan Nantaris, leave us. You shall hear of this again when I tell your Master."

Valiens nodded and walked from the open space, his stride light, almost amusement on his face before he was gone.

Mirar led Revan to a bench, sitting beside him and looking into his blue eyes, searching; then she saw it. There was something about his eyes, almost as though he was hiding something from her.

"Revan, what is it? Twice today you have done things that are unlike you, things I would not expect you to do. I want to know why, why it is that you now act so rashly?"

Revan sighed heavily, he looked tired and strangely unwell. "It is not you Master, nor the Order. I just feel like something around me is wrong, like, like I have an itch I cannot reach. I do not know what it is so I have been trying to contact the force, to see if I can answer the question."

Mirar nodded slowly, "I understand Revan, I felt just the same as you did at your age. To be so responsible for things but to be so noticeable, as if every step you make is being watched."

"Yes, that is part of it I am sure," Revan said, his eyes closed. "Thank you Master, I am sorry if I have caused you worry or anxiety, I will try to follow the codes more closely."

Mirar smiled, she had often wondered at her own ability to be his teacher, now she saw a chance, a small chance to succeed. "I am still not pleased about this Revan, but I believe you, you have never lied to me in the past and I do not see you starting in the future."

"I cannot see the future Master." Revan said.

Mirar looked at him strangely, it was an odd word selection, she pushed it aside though. "And what of Padawan Nantaris?"

"What of him?" he asked with an undeniable sharpness to his tone.

"Is he influencing you Revan?" she asked.

He stood stiffly, looking at her coldly, "no Master he is not."

Mirar felt her previous hopes of tempering Revan fading, "calm yourself Revan. There is no cause for anger, if he is-"

"Well he isn't so the point is irrelevant," he snapped, letting a rare contraction into his words.

"Revan, I will not have you talking to me like that. And anger leads to darkness, you know this."

The man nodded then spoke so softly that she could barely hear his words, "do I?" Then he spoke louder, "yes Master, I apologise."

"Then tonight I am taking you out. When was the last time you left the temple?"

Revan smiled slightly, "officially, seven months ago. You took me to the archives."

Mirar wanted to ask about the unofficial visits but did not want to play into his trap.

"We all need time to see real life, for we Jedi must prove our ideals and ways in the field. If you are willing then we go tonight."

Revan looked quite pleased at this, "of course Master, I would be happy to go."

"Well then, meet me by the hanger at dusk tonight, I will take you through one of the less sanguine areas of the surface. It will be a lesson to know how to behave and how to act in such a situation.

Revan nodded, not adding he had been to many dumps in his time at the temple, but it was not politic to say that.

"Then I will meet you there, three hours yes?"

"Yes, do not be late," she said, turning and vanishing into the doorway.

"You summoned me Vandar?" The calm voice interrupted the diminutive Jedi's meditations. Vandar was surprised; normally he could sense the approach of others, well, except this one man. Aetius Perinard had the worrying ability to appear in front of you when it was least expected. Vandar however, rallied and showed nothing but calm.

"Master Perinard, do come in. There is a matter of some importance that must be discussed."

Aetius closed the door and sat opposite the small Jedi; the platinum hair bright in the streaming sunlight coming through the windows.

Vandar cleared his throat; then spoke with his strange, high pitched voice that was nonetheless soothing. "Young Padawan Morantine, I am considering his training and whether he needs further assistance then he has already."

"You believe that Jedi Levarne is not capable of the role or that her Padawan is not responsive."

"Jedi Levarne came to me this morning saying that he was distant and almost disturbed," Vandar said.

"Perhaps, I see however that she is a good teacher and he is responsive. What he needs is to be near someone who is more conventional."

"You believe that Padawan Nantaris is influencing him?" Vandar asked doubtfully.

"Not consciously I believe, but yes. I think separating them, if only for a while could be a good thing. In any event they need field experience and it has been three years since they became Padawans, they have rarely left the Temple, let alone the planet."

Vandar thought for a moment, "yes, I think this is the right idea. As we talked about, we are setting up the new station and I think a scouting party should be sent to the location to sense any weaknesses or threats." The voice of Aetius Perinard was utterly calm and collected, as if all his emotion had long ago been drained away.

"We shall inform the council of this decision; Jedi Levarne shall be instructed to focus of training Padawan Morantine closely."

"If I may Vandar, if the Padawan is truly uncertain, then perhaps a student of his age well versed in the codes could be put close to him."

Vandar considered the idea, then nodded slowly, "yes, Padawan Hierion Tsrvarn is available, perhaps he and Jedi Lestin could be brought here."

"I believe this is within our power to arrange, it can only be for the best," Aetius said, smiling emotionlessly before standing. "One as powerful as young Morantine must be prepared to be even stricter with the codes and with themselves. I believe this is for his own good."

"As do I. Good day Master Perinard."

Valiens Nantaris smiled sardonically as Revan descended the stairs into the living area of the Temple. The two Padawans had rooms close to each other, now the brown haired Jedi waited nonchalantly outside his door.

"I see you're still alive?"

"So you are not blind? That is good," Revan replied stiffly.

"So, what'd she say?" Valiens probed.

"What do you think she said? Using my weapon like that," he was not sounding convinced, his friend seized on it.

"So do you think it was wrong?"

"It was against the code," Revan said carefully.

"But do you think it was wrong?" Valiens pressed with a lazy smile.

"No, I do not," Revan said, unwilling to lie and unable to avoid answering the question.

Valiens shook his head, "honesty Revan, it's far more dangerous than any lie."

"It is how one uses the truth," Revan said softly. "Anyway, I have a feeling that they have decided that we need something more to do. I am going to a less sanguine part of the surface tonight."

"Aye, so I heard, and I have a feeling that they are going to move me off world."

Revan had been turning away but looked back, his friend seemed unworried, unconcerned almost. "But why?"

"You and I have been Padawans for three years Revan, and have we done one thing worthy of admiration, of worth? No, training and book learning is all well and good but how long are we going to sit here? At least now I have a chance for something to do."

Revan forbore to comment that the Jedi did not approve of action and admiration, he had felt the same frustration. "It is not that they are bad people, but everything takes so long. By the time they let me out of here on my own, I'll be as old as Master Perinard."

Valiens nodded, "I think it is for the best."

"I will miss you Nantaris," Revan said genuinely.

His friend nodded, "it ain't certain yet Revan, but yes, I'll miss you too."

"Why not just, just…" Revan said, then sighed and turned away.

"Excuse me, is there a Padawan Morantine here?" it was a gentle, child like voice.

Revan turned to see a young Jedi Apprentice who was vaguely familiar. In addition to the brown robe and short boots, she also wore her hair in two short pigtails behind her ears. The girl could only have been ten at the most but she showed no apprehension as she walked up to the two Padawans.

"I am Siandar Morantine, though you may call me Revan," he said and knelt down in front of her. The face was familiar, very familiar but he could not remember. His thoughts were jolted as she smiled at him. She seemed a little more nervous than she showed, but held herself up.

"Do you remember me? I remember you, it has been a few years."

"I'll leave you two to it," Valiens said and walked away. The two were a good match, they were the only two Jedi he had met that avoided contractions and informal words.

"You are?" Revan asked, then closed his eyes. He reached out to her in his thoughts, he never forgot a person's presence, what they felt like. "Bastila Shan, from Telravian, the Apprentice I met before I became a Padawan."

She looked surprised for a second, then her face calmed like the Jedi schooled themselves to do. "You surprise me, I had not expected you to remember."

Revan smiled, laying a hand on her brown robed shoulder, "and how do you feel now?"

"I am feeling well Padawan Morantine, I asked to meet you." Bastila looked a little nervous, "I have been wanting to thank you for some time."

Revan nodded his head slowly, he could see her mind held calm, compassion and control. Strangely, it also strangely held embarrassment and not just because she was talking to Revan. Something in the girl's mind was sealed off, hidden and controlled, Revan did not probe deeper. It was not his business to intrude into another's emotions, so he smiled.

"I did what any Jedi would have done Bastila. I quite understood your pain, but it is for the best." Revan was not entirely sure he believed that but gave no outward show of his emotions.

"I can see now that only starting again can I master my emotions enough to control myself and those around me."

"Yes, only by being calm can you one day be what you wish. Do not forget that pride and arrogance is a dangerous affliction, it will twist you, however you look at it." Revan looked down, he chuckled, "do not listen to me; what do I know? So do you think the Jedi is the right path for you?"

"I do, yes. I saw that I was being irrational then, I have struggled since to become more controlled."

Revan looked at the earnest young face and finally knew what he was missing, all this time he had felt something was wrong. Now he saw it and felt it in her mind, what had troubled him all this time; he was not the same as them. Revan had never really been totally in tune with the rules, even as a child his actions had concealed the way he had carried out his tasks. This girl however, she wanted to follow the rules, wanted to submit to the loss of all emotional attachment. Revan did not want that, he had never wanted that, and that, he supposed, was why he and Valiens were being separated. Two young Padawans who did not follow the rules entirely, Revan saw that this was finally what had plagued him, he wanted to be a Jedi, but not by their terms.

"What is wrong Siandar?" she asked in concern as his face winced at something private.

His blue eyes snapped back to her, he forced a smile onto his face, "nothing my friend. Call me Revan, I am sure everyone else does."

She looked unsure, evidently she had been told that the alias was something to be avoided, "Master said I should not call you that."

"Then, do not call me that if you think it will corrupt you," he said with a tinge of bitterness. He had not meant to say that, he cast around for an explanation to get himself out of it. "I am sorry my dear, just tired. So all goes well otherwise?"

Bastila gave him a suspicious look but nodded her head, "I am doing well."

Revan smiled and stood, trying to keep his look as real as he could. "It is nice to talk to you again Bastila, do come by if you want to talk again. I apologise if I have not been the best company today but another time perhaps."

The girl nodded slowly and hurried away; the distant shape of her Master led her away. Revan sighed; right now, he hated the Jedi.

Revan was not exactly in a Jedi-like calm as he walked back down the passage towards the hanger bay. His patient, calm exterior belied his interior which roiled with unforseen doubt in himself and what he was doing. So intent was he in his thoughts that he did not even see the tall figure that stepped out in front of him. Revan stepped aside, just avoiding the large figure who had just filled his path. As he steadied himself he apologised.

"It is no problem my friend, it is I who is as much to blame," the figure, a tall man said. His voice was formal, like he had not grown up with galactic basic as his birth language.

Revan now had a chance to take in the man he had almost tripped, a man who was looking at him intently. He was tall, near six foot four inches and as broad and strong as a bouncer, his head was entirely bald and unmarked save for a series of tattoos over the skull. Lines in some purple design were traced over them from his neck to where his hairline should have been; there were perhaps seven of them, about an inch thick. He had deep-set eyes that were very darkly coloured, but which showed no malice or evil intent. He also had a sharply protruding jaw which was entirely clear of growth.

The tall man also looked at his new acquaintance, looking down on the three inch shorter Revan. Taking in the azure blue eyes, the black hair and the grimace, he knew it was Siandar Morantine before him.

"Are you Siandar Morantine?" he asked, his question courteous.

Revan could sense the man was genuinely interested, he nodded. "I am. Most people call me Revan though, I actually prefer it."

"If that is what you wish, I am Hierion Tsrvarn, a Padawan of the Jedi like yourself."

"I am pleased to meet you. I have not seen you here before, but yet you knew me by sight. How is that?"

"Because I told him, Padawan," a voice said from behind Revan.

The Padawan turned to see the light crimson face of Jedi Knight Zhar Lestin, a Twi'lek Jedi of considerable fame. It was clear that he was the tall man's Master and guide.

"Master Lestin, it has been some time since we last met. I see this is your Padawan," he said with false cheer. He had never liked the Twi'lek much, strange as the Jedi had been nothing but kind and understanding to Revan.

"It is indeed," Zhar said, not noticing the barb in Revan's words. "My Master and yours were close friends on Morlock Four, because of this, we have been assigned to work together. The Council felt it was time to expand your horizons, that is why Padawan Tsrvarn is here."

"Well I am glad to meet you," Revan said though he mentally sighed. So Nantaris was being replaced by this big ox of a man, he got a grip on himself. "I have an appointment but if I could spend a few moments with your Padawan?"

"It is permitted, be ready tomorrow Padawan," he said to his student.

"So, Hierion-" Revan began.

"Malak. You have your alias and so do I. It means war leader in the language of my people."

"Your people? Who are they? How did you become a Jedi?"

Malak smiled slightly, he seemed a dour young man who smiled only briefly and rarely. "I came from the non-Republic world of Belghina, we were nomads, tribesmen you might say. Slavery is illegal in your Republic but out there it wasn't, I was captured when I was just a year old. My father had no children so the title of Malak passed to me, though I was a baby. To cut a long story short; I was rescued by the Jedi when I was two, I am grateful they did. They broke up the slavery ring and took me and several others to the enclave on Morlock Four, a Jedi there was from one of the nearby systems and took it upon herself to teach me the language of both peoples. About five years ago, I followed the ancient customs and had these marks conferred on me, the symbol of the Malak. And that is myself, now I fight for a new cause, the cause of the lightside."

Revan nodded understandingly, the man was clearly no fool but seemed to possess an almost fanatical devotion to the Jedi. It was something Revan did not have, nor especially want. Even so, Malak seemed a good man.

"Well, you seem to know about me already, friend."

"I'm getting there you could say, if we are to work together, perhaps we could spend some time together?"

"That is a wise idea," Revan said gravely. "But not right now, I have business with my Master, perhaps when I return."

"I will look forward to that moment then. I am learning my way around the Temple, your assistance would be very beneficial."

Revan nodded his head, knowing he had to get going. "Master Zhar will have my room's location, come when you are ready; do not worry about time, I am an early riser."

"Then I shall be there Revan. What does Revan mean anyway?" Malak asked, his strangely toned accent making his question slightly higher pitched than normal.

"It means Ghost in the language of my people from the outer rim. If you want to know the reason, my family is dead, the rest is my own."

"I understand, and the Jedi allow you such an alias?" Malak asked, puzzled.

Revan considered, Malak was a rank but Revan was a self-imposed title. "They do not know what it means," Revan admitted. "Though they have never actually asked, I would tell them, I do not lie."

"I believe in truth but there are times where there is no choice."

"The truth is far more dangerous than a lie, it is how you tell it. Now, I really must go, come and see me tomorrow and I will see what I can do."

"Goodbye then, Revan." Malak watched the man walk away, smiled slightly, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully as he turned and walked away.

Mirar Levarne was waiting in the outdoor section of the Jedi's hanger, a large area full of the various craft that the Jedi had somehow acquired to their service. The Jedi Knight pulled her cloak tighter about her thin shoulders, trying to keep the chill breeze from making her shiver. Night was falling fast, by the time she and her student were ready, it would be full night. She unconsciously touched her lightsabre by her side, feeling relieved by its reassuring weight; finally he could sense him. Revan was calmer than he had been for a long time, she was relieved to sense that whatever problem had been weighting on him this morning was gone, she smiled as he approached.

The Padawan offered a thin smile in return, his eyes showing nothing, "are we ready Master?" His tone was unusually flat but rigidly firm, no hint of doubt in the words.

"Yes we are, climb in," she instructed, her student did as he was asked, climbing into the speeder, allowing Mirar to activate the engines and power the machine away.

As they drove through the darkening air, Mirar turned to her Padawan, smiling encouragingly, "I sense you are more at ease. Are you alright now?" she asked in a friendly way.

"Master, why do we not use the force?" Revan asked, his words betrayed that he was thinking hard about the subject, giving little thought to the way he said it.

"What do you mean? Have I not taught you to use it? To help guide you?"

"I understand Master but what of other uses? Normal uses, like this," Revan levitated his comm-link above his hand before taking it once more.

Mirar sighed, setting the speeder down on a flat roof, she looked at Revan's face and nodded. "It is a good question, it troubled me once also," she admitted. "I was told the reason but the reason meant nothing until I could see what it really meant. The reason why we do not use the force for such uses despite the fact it would increase our ability is for that very reason."

"We do not use it because it might make us stronger?" Revan asked in puzzlement.

"We do not do that because we could use it to make us stronger. Revan, the force is a gift, it is a gift that comes with responsibility though. If we were to give in to temptation, to use it on who we want, where do we stop? Remember, it is just a small step between using it just a little and using it to change a person's mind. The same flick of the wrist can do the same thing to a person; where does it end? A Jedi we all know about did not believe the answer given and he fell to the darkside. Exar Kun, his name was, a name people still blanch when they hear. He would not accept the bounds of his teaching, and he betrayed his master and the Order. That arrogance, that impatience is why we are cautious with our students, not because we want to frustrate you. Unless you have control of yourself and your powers, you risk not only your life but those around you. The darkside is a persuasive thing Revan, it twists you, we have all felt it, every person in the galaxy does. To a non force adept however, it is but a distant whisper, to us, it controls us; that is why we have codes and rules." Mirar sighed as she stopped her impassioned speech, aware she had rambled a little too much. She reached across and took her student's shoulder, "Revan? I don't like being so stern, so fierce but can you see my reason?"

The boy looked stunned, he had not considered the real reason but now he nodded, "I can Master. I trust in your greater experience to guide me. It is clearer but still…."

"But still what?" Mirar asked gently.

"If the whole Order made a choice like this then surely such incidents could be avoided."

"And is that how we want to appear to the people of the Republic? The dark path is a very gentle spiral, you start with good intentions but eventually it goes beyond that. Soon you make any excuse to continue using the power in you, and that is the great trap. Like a drug it pulls you, wills you to use it more and more. And when that happens you lose control; and that is the most terrible thing that can happen." She touched his arm again, "think of it Revan. You, your body and your mind is a weapon, more lethal than any sword, and that is why you must be in control Revan."

The Padawan nodded his head; he seemed happier and more sure of himself to Mirar, and she smiled as he looked back at her. "Thank you Master, I see more clearly now. I see you have greater experience in this area so I will listen to your words."

"Good, I am glad I could clear it up. Do you see now why there must be rules and codes? In the same way the Republic does not give rifles to every citizen, there must be order and control."

Revan nodded, and Mirar Levarne, happy to have made her point, lifted the speeder off its temporary lodgement and into the endless flow of traffic once more.

It was a reasonably orderly part of the surface of Coruscant, it had none of the open stim sellers or black marketeers of the lower levels. All this particular area had was various agents of the local gangs that plagued the city. Most of the activity was covert though as Jedi and security forces routinely swept these areas for known criminals.

Revan waited until the machine was totally halted before jumping out, scanning the areas. He had not actually fought a living creature before which had murderous intent so he was very slightly nervous. Concentrating on his discipline he waited until his Master was ready, then followed her across the metal platform. Their robes and demeanour made them clearly stand apart from the crowd, people making way for them as they passed. Revan noticed in surprise, the differences in reaction of various people. Some spat on the ground, though not close enough to be identified, others nodded appreciatively as the two Jedi passed, a few hurried away, as though they were guilty of something.

"Be careful where you walk Revan, some people see Jedi as targets, be on your guard," Mirar whispered.

Revan did not reply, but pressed on towards a particular tavern; around them, the people got back to their business. The two Jedi walked into the bar, sitting in a booth in the corner. A young waitress came over to them, she looked about twenty with a conspicuous lack of decent clothing. She smiled at Revan who did not react, she seemed disappointed by this.

"What can I get ya?" she drawled.

"Penistos Spirits for me, my Padawan will have water," Mirar said firmly. She knew that Revan didn't drink anyway, even now he was old enough.

The waitress wandered off, allowing Revan to look around the room for the first time, a simple, small room, darkly lit and smoky. A Twi'lek dancer gyrated unenthusiastically on a small stage to some tinny music, hardly getting a glance from the patrons of the room.

"Master, that Twi'lek, is she a, a…." he found he could not continue.

Mirar sighed quietly, "note the collar around the neck and the bracelets around the wrists? It could be worse I suppose."

"Why is it not stopped? Slavery is illegal is it not?"

His Master smiled at his fervour, "it is. But just because we can see it clearly, does not mean she is a slave legally. She would have signed papers to make her a servant of the owner here, nothing illegal about that."

"It should be stopped," Revan said, shaking his head.

"How? The galaxy is too large to stop everything, besides if she has done it by her own free will, there is nothing we can do."

"So much for justice and representation," Revan muttered. "Master, why are we here?"

"I am here to meet someone, I have you here to watch my back. People don't try to fight us face to face but most are perfectly willing to shoot us in the back if they could profit from it."

"I understand, want me outside?"

"In just a moment, you see the Rodian over there?" Mirar asked, apparently to her hands. The Rodian was a sly looking creature with a large overcoat covering most of his body.

"I sense him, greed and anger with fear as an undercurrent."

"He is the person I am meeting; it is about time. watch my back."

Mirar rose and leaving Revan alone walked over towards the Rodian. Revan could sense the fear in the creature as the Jedi Knight approached, but then he was distracted. He could clearly sense the presence of great emotion; hate and fear coming from outside the room. The feelings were coming from outside a small doorway on the far side of the room. Revan stared intently at the door, making sure his feelings were correct, then rose and headed over. Mirar sensed him leave but showed no reaction as she continued to talk to the flighty Rodian merchant.

Revan knew instinctively that he should be alert as he pushed passed the people near the door. Opening it, he heard a sudden flood of words, but even more, he felt the flood of emotions emanating from the people near him.

"-promised us payment! Now we take her til you come up with the cash, understand?" The speaker was a tall thug, about six foot tall holding a blaster pistol.

Revan could clearly see the scene now; the thug and three cronies had backed up a middle aged woman and presumably her daughter against a wall. The daughter looked about twelve, the mother only barely double that, a few years older than Revan himself. As the Jedi watched, the man snatched the daughter's arm and dragged her over to his men who held her roughly.

"No, please! I'll do anything you want, just don't hurt her!" the woman begged.

"That's for the boss to decide, come on boys," he said. "No screaming or she'll regret it," the man warned.

The woman made a vain grab forward but the thug pistol whipped her hard across the face so she fell backwards against the wall. The tall men chuckled then dragged the protesting girl away. He had left two of his men to see that he was not followed, Revan walked into the light of the ally, one man turned at the sound of the door opening. His face became one of disgust and fury.

"What's this, a bloody Jedi? Just move along kid and nobody gets hurt."

Revan should have felt nervous facing two men who had more fighting experience than he had years. He should have been intimidated. Instead, he felt something inside of him, not anger but calm, he knew what to do almost by instinct.

"Hand back the child and you will not be hurt," he said calmly, drawing his weapon but not activating it.

"A Jedi kid with guts. Move on kid unless you want the girl to suffer." He pointed at the mother who seemed half unconscious from the vicious blow.

"Too afraid to try and deal with a proper opponent? Surrender and indeed, nobody will get hurt."

"Bring it on, kid," one said and raised his weapon.

Revan had no conscious control of himself it was like he was being guided by more than instinct or thought. Holding up his hand, he felt a strange power flowing through him, a feeling he had never had before. It seemed a simple matter to direct the power into an invisible surge and threw one man down to the ground, stunned. The second man got off three shots before Revan knocked the weapon from his hands; a blow to the jaw sent the man into instant unconsciousness. Revan had stopped every shot, reminding himself that only this morning he had been fighting against training machines.

Revan ran over to the woman who was just waking up; she looked like she had a broken eye socket from the force of the blow. She whimpered as Revan knelt beside her.

"Who were they? Speak," he commanded fiercely.

"Thugs from Weirt Travar's group," she said, her eye already swelling. "I'm behind on my payment so they taken my daughter until I can. I don't have the money though, so they ain't going to let her go," she sobbed briefly, hissing with pain from her injured face.

"I will find him. Where is he?" Revan asked, his tone cold. He could not believe what he was feeling, an exhilaration of battle, though he had not fought before, he felt like he knew exactly what to do. It was either instinct or the will of the force, he knew it was the later.

The woman told Revan as best she could, the Jedi stood, already thinking ahead to the assault. A mere two minutes had passed since he stepped outside.

"My Master is inside, tell her to get backup to that location. I will get her back."

Revan was gone by the time Mirar Levarne stepped out into the street with her lightsaber held ready. She had heard the shots, put this together with Revan's disappearance and now came outside. She noticed her Padawan was gone but also the two unconscious men. Then she saw the woman. Seeing the woman was afraid and injured, she moved over to her and knelt down.

"Are you alright my friend? Where is my Padawan?" she asked the woman.

"He said you would come. Gone to search for my daughter; asked me to get you to send backup."

"He went off after them alone? What happened?"

"They took my daughter, he tried to stop them but they got away with her. He said he would bring her back."

"Where did he go?" Mirar grunted when the answer was given; it was what she had expected.

"I'll have a medic see to your injury," the Jedi said.

The woman edged away. "No, just bring me my daughter back, please," she said pitifully.

Mirar nodded. She hoped Revan knew what he was doing, and she would still be having a very firm talk with him no matter the outcome. If he survived that is.

Revan slipped through the darkened building searching for his quarry. Wiert Travar was in this building. Revan knew this because he had sensed no deception in the woman. Weirt Travar owned a large apartment building in one of the more middle class areas of Coruscant's surface, a building with its own guards and security droids. Revan knew it would only be a matter of time before he was discovered, but he did not know the way through this huge building so he drew out his com-link and activated it.

"Jedi Levarne come in. I repeat, Jedi Levarne," he whispered from a side room, and he hoped she would not be too loud in her reply.

"Revan?" Her voice came through; she must have determined the reason for his quiet. "Are you alright?"

"I am fine Master but I am going to need backup I think. If you can distract the guards here with the security forces then we might have a good chance of rescuing the girl."

"Why did you charge off on your own?" she demanded.

"I am inside now, if I came with you they would have time to hide the evidence. I have to go, you know where I am?"

"I can find it. Be safe Revan. Jedi Levarne out," she finished, the line went dead and Revan nodded.

Waiting a few more minutes, the Padawan stepped out into the hallway, moving quietly and quickly to avoid detection by the surveillance systems. After a few moments he came to what looked like the command centre of the building, he waited outside, just able to hear the conversation.

"-coming in from all directions. I told Osk he should have taken her quiet like. Now, the fool has brought the CDF onto us. Go and tell the boss that we have to move out."

A slur of static blocked the next words but Revan clearly heard the man speak again. "-don't care! Get him out of bed if you have to, you want to end up on Tar'axos?" Revan smiled, Tar'axos, the highest security prison in the Republic would be better than this scum deserved he believed.

"Alright, alright, I'm going," there was the sound of feet then the door opened. The double hydraulic doors hissed as they closed, allowing the Jedi to cover his steps as he crept up behind the man. Something deep in his mind told Revan that this was not the way of the Jedi, but he pushed it aside, since it felt so natural, so normal. The man perhaps sensed something behind him and turned; Revan was on him in a second. The blonde haired man was pushed hard against he wall, with the Jedi's hand at his throat, Revan stared at the man calmly.

"Where is Weirt Travar?" he asked.

"Go to hell Jedi," the man said as clearly as he could against the pressure on his throat.

"You will tell me where Weirt Travar is," Revan said, putting his empathic powers to use. The man struggled but after a moment fell limp.

"Twentieth floor up, largest room," he said blandly.

"You have been very helpful," Revan said, then brought his hand down onto the side of the man's neck. There was a sigh, then the body folded up.

Something was telling Revan that that was not the way of the Jedi, but he ignored it, instead revelling in the power he felt as he headed for the elevators.

"Looks like the boss has got a new toy," one of the two men outside the large double doors said. His colleague smiled lecherously at the crude analogy.

"Maybe he might let us have a look once he is through," he suggested with a wink at his friend.

The two were standing outside the double doors to Travar's room; Travar, one of the more renowned black marketeers on Coruscant. The two men looked to be the traditional sort of bully boys employed for such roles, strong but not exactly bright. There was a muffled cry from behind the door, and the men grinned to themselves. It would be an interesting night.

Revan watched the men's crudity, feeling nothing towards them. For near half an hour, he had been making his way quietly through the large building, guided by his mind as to where to go. Now, waiting in the shadows, he waited for his moment. Then he moved forward.

One of the men saw him approach and raised his gun, "what are you doing here Jedi?"

"I am here to stop whatever criminal activities you are performing," Revan said pompously.

"That's a laugh, now back off," the other man chuckled, raising his gun to line up with his ally's weapon.

"I suggest you stand aside. Drop your weapons," he ordered.

"Like hell I will," one man said and fired. Revan just avoided the shot, holding out his hand to throw both of them back with an invisible blow. The two men fell to the ground but as Revan walked to the doors, they ambushed him. Moving swiftly, the two thugs stood as one and slammed him into the wall. The lightsabre clattered to the ground as the two men set upon the Jedi, their ghastly strength overpowering the younger man. Revan, realised that his impatience had cost him dearly. He fought on though, catching many blows, but he could not stop them all. In desperation, he lashed out with his foot, slamming it just below the knee bone. The man reeled away, allowing Revan to get the room he needed. He had never fought in close combat but yet something was guiding him, making him fight like a hero, but he did not second guess his good fortune though. The man he was fighting swung a blow at Revan which he avoided, ducked and bodily threw the man backwards into the far wall. The thug cracked his head on a metal light fitting and fell limply to the floor, unconscious.

The last man got to his feet, pulling a blaster free and aiming it at Revan, the Jedi closed his eyes and held his hand out. Again, the terrible invisible blow picked up the man and slammed him into the doors.

The room was in the highest of current fashions; a large four poster bed sat to Revan's forward right, a series of rooms to his left. Opposite the Jedi was a wide, panoramic window looking out over the endless city. Standing over the bed was an averagely built man with sandy blonde hair, holding a knife and wearing a set of light armour. He was standing over the bed, and on the bed was the girl. She did not look especially happy, what with being tied down and being hovered over by such a sleazy man.

Travar jumped as his guard smashed through the door backwards, admitting a rather worn Padawan Morantine. Travar fumbled with the knife, dropping it and drawing a blaster from his belt.

"Weirt Travar?" Revan asked like he was a business guest.

"Who the hell are you? This is assault and trespassing!"

"I am sure your young friend could say the same. I am here to retrieve her, the CDF is on the way."

Travar growled, dragging the girl to her feet, she staggered because her ankles and wrists were tied, and her mouth covered to prevent her crying out. The man ignored her but he held her by the throat, aiming the gun at her.

"Stay back Jedi, or she dies. Understand?"

Revan held his hand out, the lightsabre flew back to his grasp. He ignited it and walked forward. "Go on then, kill her."

Travar looked uncertain, the bland look on the Jedi's face was terrifying. "I mean it, I shoot her, she dies!" The girl gave a muffled squeak but then choked as the criminal's grip tightened.

"You kill her and then what? I will kill you, do you understand fool? Are you willing to risk it? After all, it is my word against yours, a Jedi's word against a kidnapping criminal's I know which I would believe."

Travar gulped. He had never met a Jedi so cold before, usually they would have tried to persuade him to give her up. This one however was giving him a choice, two deaths or none. "But you're a Jedi!" he croaked.

"Yes I am, and you are not. Your death is unimportant, I am sure the Republic would rather take you alive but everyone is expendable."

Revan continued to walk forward, the blade up before his face, ready. The sandy haired man felt the window sill behind him, knew he had to make a choice.

"You can't do this to me!" he shouted, tightening his finger on the trigger.

"And why not? There are no witnesses. Let me see, ah yes. You shot the girl as I entered, you knew the CDF were on the way so you panicked, you attacked me and I was forced to kill you. How does that sound?" The voice was so polite that Travar's hand was shaking. The emerald blade came up, and he dropped the gun.

"Take her, damn you!" he shouted, pushing her forward. He obviously expected Revan to try to catch her so he could run past, but Revan did nothing. Since her ankles still tied, the girl hit the floor, Travar was already moving but then saw the blade an inch from his neck.

"Going somewhere? You will learn that the most important things are those that lead to the death of another. Now, I am just a Padawan, I might have an accident, you might make a sudden move," Revan stated conversationally.

"I will report you for this-" His rant was cut off because Revan cracked him on the jaw, making the man fall to the ground, stunned.

Revan walked over to the girl who was glaring at him angrily, pulling the gag of her mouth she immediately launched into a tirade.

"You jerk! That hurt! Why didn't you catch me?

"Would you rather he escaped? Or that he still had you on that bed? That can be arranged, so do not lecture me about my ways," he snapped.

The girl seemed taken aback by those words coming from a Jedi. She sighed, "I'm sorry, Jedi. I was just scared. Can you please untie me?"

"Of course," Revan helped her up, just as Mirar Levarne came into the room, followed by a security team.

"Revan, is she safe?" the Jedi Knight asked.

"Yes Master, she is uninjured. I came just in time though, he is unconscious."

"Well done Padawan Morantine," she said, but her eyes were expressing a different meaning.

Revan nodded and left the room, leaving the security officers to pick up the pieces.

"So what happened?" Mirar said, emerging from the door behind Revan.

"In reference to what, Master?" the Padawan asked.

"The man who has been taken into custody claims you threatened to kill him."

"He would say that."

Mirar scanned the words for any trace of sarcasm but found none. "So did you threaten him?" she asked directly, knowing he claimed not to lie.

"I did what was necessary to ensure the hostage survived Master."

"We are Jedi, we do not threaten, we do not coerce. Besides, how do you know that he would not shoot?"

"I did not know. However, I estimated he would not based on his emotions and his disposition."

"So you risked her life on a gamble, on this, your first mission?"

"Yes Master, if I had followed procedure then he would have been emboldened. In this case, I made him back down."

"But if he had killed her, what would you have done?" Mirar demanded, wanting to see if Revan felt any remorse for what he had done.

"I would have killed him, I gave him fair warning. Besides, he would have killed me with hardly a thought."

"We are Jedi, Revan. To kill a man is the absolute last resort, have you learnt nothing?"

"What would you have done in that case? Do not tell me that you would have let him go. No, I thought not."

"I am your Master Revan, I have more experience than you do. You would do well to listen to me."

"I am not questioning you or your ideas Master. The situation resolved itself satisfactorily."

"But what if it hadn't Revan? Could you have lived with yourself in that case?" she saw his hesitation. "Answer me Revan, with the truth."

"I could have lived with myself Master. Easily, it was she who would have died, and he would have followed her. In the end it was not my decision, I merely gave him alternatives. Two deaths or none, I could not have influenced him so I do not blame myself for what I might or might not have done. To tell the truth Master, I did not especially care if he lived or not."

Mirar's mouth sagged slightly as her Padawan turned and walked back inside. She shook her head in shock. Such coldness, such emotionless. What a Jedi could be but should never become. She shuddered, because it suddenly seemed a lot colder outside on the balcony.


	4. Interlude 1: Cat's Eye

Interlude: Cat's Eye (K-17)

The attack began at the dawning of the new year.

It was not an invasion to herald a major war, just a force large enough to complete its objectives. Cathar, their objective was, a world far beyond the edge of the Republic, a world known for its independence and its fighting spirit. Now an enemy came to crush this grass world, came to test itself against the legendary fighting spirit of the Cathar.

The world hung in space; no moon orbited it and no fleet waited for the invaders. For all their fighting spirit, the Cathar did not have the expertise or funds to build ships of war. Not that anything short of a battlegroup could have stopped this invasion force; the Mandalore had come to destroy the golden world of Cathar.

Mandalorian ships were like their builders, large and tough, immovable as stone and as agile. Six Mandalorian capital ships were the vanguard of the assault, a battlecruiser supported by mighty attack cruisers moved forward into position in preparation to attack. Like the Republic battlecruisers, the Mandalorian ships were heavily armed, but there the physical resemblance ended. Whereas the ships of the Republic were elongated longer than they were wide, the Clan ships were bulky devices of immense strength but limited speed.

On the bridge of the flagship, the battlecruiser _Haarad_, named for one of the ancient heroes of legend, was the leader of the raid. Officers and attendants scurried back and forth across the ship's vast bridge, carrying out the tasks that were assigned to them. The man who stood before the foremost windows of the bridge was tall and broad. He wore heavy, blue streaked armour and had sword and carbine by his side. He wore no helmet though, letting his short black hair meet the artificial light of the bridge. It was clear that those around him that he was a man who was feared and admired.

He was the oldest son of Mandalore, the man who would one day replace his father as ruler of the clans. That day was many years away it was believed and so the tall fighter led the forces of his father into battle, awaiting the time when all of the clans would be his. His name was Lord Nayri Takaegi. Now he led these ships and his three hundred thousand troops in a test, a trial against one of the more fierce independent worlds. The enemy would not stand long against such a thrust but it was a test, a test to see if the latest Mandalorian designs had the necessary strength to fight against more powerful opponents.

The Mandalorians were a proud race of men from outside the Republic who liked nothing better than to prove their strength and power in battle. They had fought with the Sith two and a half decades before, but the Sith had betrayed and abandoned them, causing great anger and bitterness between the two nations. Mandalore space covered over three dozen worlds, half of which were vassal states whose population were at best serfs.

A second man picked his way along the walkway that ran through the bridge of the ship, threading his way through the junior officers. He was also over six feet tall with black hair cut short, he wore lighter armour and bore the mark of Clan Sub-Chief, equivalent to Commander in the Republic.

The Mandalorians had adopted, about twenty years before after the end of the First Sith War, a parallel system of organisation. With so many lost in the fighting including the Mandalore of the time, there was a need to change and reorganise the army. One of the first things agreed upon was the need for a unified order of battle that could be applied across the whole military. The previous system, based on tribal clan formations had been unwieldy and exposed; now the Mandalore used the galactic standard for military formations. It had been unpopular but its usefulness in battle had been undoubted. Now the clans could fight in battle far more efficiently then they could have ever done before. It seemed that the slaughter of the Sith War had only strengthened the clans after all. The officer, a fearsome looking man, approached the son of Mandalore. "My Lord Takaegi, all ships are in position. We can begin on your mark."

Nayri Takaegi turned, his scarred and weathered face grim in the light from the rising Cathar star. "Then begin Commander, launch the first two corps and the mercenaries. We shall see how these primitives fight, crush them all. Leave none alive to oppose us, let the mercenaries take whatever slaves they wish. Destroy their cities."

"It shall be done my Lord," the Commander bowed before turning to give his orders.

Nayri Takaegi stared out across the golden steppes and grasslands of Cathar, lands that would soon flow with blood. As his attack ships started to move into position, he smiled grimly before turning away.

Cathar was not a vastly technological world; they were many millennia behind the current curve of galactic progress. That did not mean they were stupid, they knew what this attack presaged from the moment its fury hit.

The first targets were the orbital communications and sensors, the only things that could call for help. Not that any could come in time to save them. The beacons were floating platforms near a hundred yards wide, to cripple them, Lord Takaegi had dispatched his assault fighters. Mandalorian fighters were almost a paradox when compared to everything else their race built; smooth and agile, deadly but not cumbersome. It would be Clan Ordo's chance to prove themselves, the clan had not yet fought in the war and they demanded the chance to prove themselves.

Three squadrons, their Manticore Class fighters painted in the black and blue of their clan, flew towards their target. The ships, well armed with missiles and torpedoes as well as the ubiquitous blaster cannons moved into the standard attack formation, an arrow with their leader at their head.

Their commander, a man with far more battles than years to his name called to his men through his communicator. "This is Squadron Leader Canderous Ordo, we are approaching primary target. Two and three, you cover me, the rest of you, follow me."

He was a man of few words, even so, his curt orders were followed exactly as he dived down towards the communication platform that boosted the signal of all other such platforms in orbit. As he pulled in closer and closer, Canderous reached across to bring up the targeting reticule, he was almost in range. Then, the machine clicked and the Mandalorian knew it was his time, he opened fire with all four of his heavy blasters, missiles being ineffective in space.

The platform was hit a score of times in a few seconds, the fire from his wingmen adding to the brief flares of energy. Then, with a final, flameless detonation, the platform shattered apart into pieces, the remains falling to burn up in the atmosphere.

"Lord Takaegi, this is Strike Force Silver Four. The communication beacon has been destroyed."

"Understood strike force. Select suitable landing sight and begin preliminary ground attack."

"I understand my lord," Canderous said gruffly. "Squadron, break atmosphere and meet up at the coordinates I am sending now."

There was five acknowledgements, then the Mandalorian assault fighters plunged into the atmosphere seeking targets to immolate. Normally, such space craft would be unsuitable for such ground assault missions but that was the ingenuity of the Manticore, it could instantly become an atmospheric assault fighter-bomber. Then, the missiles it carried could suddenly regain their usefulness, prove deadly if there was no weapon capable of hitting the small assault craft.

A wide, grassy plain lay before Canderous, its beauty only in that it could hold near a division of the assault troops who would land here. Before the Mandalorian squadron was the largest city on the planet, one of only two large settlements. Canderous felt a certain pride that it was he that would strike the first blow on this battlefield against the enemy.

"Silver Four, fire when ready, then circle to cut off any escape routes," he said with a calm sense of bloodlust.

"Understood Squadron Leader," one man acknowledged and broke to begin his own attack run.

"For Mandalore," Canderous said softly. Then the slaughter began.

A dozen heavy missiles followed by a blizzard of heavy blaster rounds smashed into the city. In a single blow, the gates, walls and major buildings were shattered by the torrent of deadly fire. The buildings were fairly old styled, mostly wood with a clay or mud facing, painted to suggest stone, it was torn apart just as easily though. Fires sprung up as the people of the city milled in panic, their screams inaudible to the pilots in their deadly ships. Canderous pulled back, giving himself a full twelve mile approach run with which to hammer the now burning city. As he strafed a fleeing convoy of civilians, he received the order to pull back, to intercept the Cathar ships trying to run for him. Canderous shattered one last building, a large temple of some kind, then pulled back to conform to his lord's orders. He had done his duty, he had been a pilot despite his protests. He was a ground fighter, a man who had lead the prototype of the newest walkers into battle. He hoped to have the chance to prove himself on the ground again. For now though, it was the ground troops that must fight.

The city was burning, the screams were shrill on the ground as trapped civilians and those who tried to aid them were consumed by flames. Several of the missiles had been incendiary; the fierce flames cracked the dry mud to reach the old wood of the frames.

The Cathar, a race of humanoids who had more in common with felines than humans, were in turmoil. What they needed was a plan, what they got was the only thing they could do. Whilst the soldiers tried to distract the enemy troops, the wounded, woman and children would try to escape. Both offered near certain death, but at least the latter had a minor chance to escape the clutches of the blockading fleet.

In the highest pinnacle of the now burning palace, the hereditary King of the Cathar looked at his terrified family. He saw his daughter, his son-in-law and above all, he saw his granddaughter, saw their furred faces driven into sorrow and hatred.

"Go my daughter, you must escape while there is still time, go."

"Father, I cannot leave you, you have to come with us."

"No child, my place is here with what is left of my people. If we are to fall then we will give them such a fight that we might be remembered. My place is here, yours is away, elsewhere."

"How is it we can escape?" the husband said, clearly eager to leave as soon as he could.

The white fur on the King's ears flattened as the ears pressed themselves back. He just contained his anger enough to point, he had never liked the husband but his daughter was stubborn. "There is my personal ship on the roof in the docking bay. Now go, I must see to the troops."

"Grandfather?" the child asked, she could have only been about four at the most.

"Yes child?" the older Cathar asked, his ears settling down from his brief rage.

"Will I see you again?" she asked, almost pitiably.

"That is something I cannot say child. Go, perhaps we shall meet again."

Juhani watched her grandfather slowly pick up his old hunting glaive, his age clearly showing on his face. Then she was hustled away as around them, their subjects were being slaughtered.

The main assault on the city would be performed by the Dracovitch Clan, their crimson and black colours clearly showing the dark fury they were renowned for. An entire division of troops, twelve thousand men was gathering before the city whilst to the other points of the compass, smaller formations were arriving to cut off any flight. Beside the assault division was the mercenaries who were recruited into the Mandalorian armies because they were far more useful as allies then enemies. Aside from that, they generally disliked the Mandalorian troops and vice versa, the clansmen disapproving of the lack of discipline and needless brutality. The mercenaries conversely disliked the clansmen because of their arrogant pride and dedication to their code of honour.

Despite this, the two fought well beside each other; the natural competitiveness of the two groups ensuring continued success. Fifteen thousand troops started forward, almost as one, moving towards the ruined gates. Against them, perhaps five thousand Cathar waited, all those who had come out to fight. The defenders' numbers dropping by a score every half minute from the rain of shot and shell among them and from those who ran from the battle. The Mandalorians had no time for deserters, none who fought would be spared this day.

Leading the assault was the newest invention of the clans, developed by Takaegi's Clan, the richest of them all, the Basilisk was a worthy investment. This was the first time they had been deployed as a formation, previously they had fought singularly. Canderous Ordo had been the first Mandalore to lead an attack with such machines. Standing over fifteen feet tall, the machine weighted over ten tonnes but was still light and agile enough to move faster than any man could. The machine was shaped like an armoured man, the pilot protected deep in the centre of the machine, relying mostly on visual displays to see the ground ahead. On one massive arm was a heavy assault blaster cannon, similar to the ones used on starships. On the other arm, the left arm, was a heavy weapon code named Destructor, a weapon with enough punch to cripple the heaviest of machines. Although dangerous to the user, it offered the Mandalorians exactly what they wanted. And what they needed was mobile, heavy artillery. On one shoulder was a targeting and guidance system whilst on the other was a battery of rockets. It was named Basilisk from the deadly creature of legend. That creature had used its stare to petrify its foe, now this Basilisk would use its guns to destroy the foe.

The Basilisks strode forward, the men flowing beside them as they closed for the fight. Then, as one, the heavy walkers opened up with a terrific barrage of fire, tearing into the Cathar ranks and disorganising them just as the lead assault troops were almost upon their opponents.

The assault troops, using the latest invention, jetpacks, struck home. Although only capable of a few seconds of flight, they proved a useful way of overcoming obstacles such as the Cathar had. In reality, the flimsy ditches and cheval-de-frise erected by the defenders would avail them little even without the assault troopers. However, they never got a chance to try their luck.

The massively armoured and well equipped Mandalorians were perfectly suited to the brutal close quarters fighting they would face. Attached to the top of each armoured wrist was a small, suit powered assault blaster. As the clansmen descended, they opened fire with both the wrist mounted weapons and their regular blaster pistols. The effect on the close packed defenders was horrendous; unarmoured and untrained, the Cathar was cut down like wheat before the scythe. Those who survived and moved to resist the attackers face some of the most formidable soldiers in the entire galaxy. Only a Jedi was a more lethal match in a one on one duel but that did not stop the Cathar trying. The twin vibroblades of the assault troops, powered by the servo motors of the armour, hacked apart bone and flesh with equal abandon. There were none who could stand long before the brutal assault, and the Cathar began to give, despite the numbers they had.

There was a bellowed warcry that signalled the crossing of the first companies of Mandalorian and mercenary infantry, crossing the ditch whose side the Cathar had been forced from.

It was over in minutes, not even the legendary ferocity of the Cathar could save them from slaughter; those who stood were shot down, those who ran were butchered with steel. For every Mandalorian who fell, twenty five Cathar had fallen in recompense. And still the killing went on as the wounded were slaughtered, while those who surrendered had their throats cut, left to bleed out on the bloody grass.

Helmets looked to the city that still stood burning before them. The fire of battle was in those on the field and they moved at the gates as one, leaving only carnage in their wake. The Basilisks came last, their part had been reduced to spectator but occasionally one would prove its aptness of name by unleashing a volley of destruction at the Cathar remnants.

Eventually it was over, but only once all those in the city had been slaughtered did it end. Bodies lay through the streets, their wounds becoming more and more elaborate as time had gone on. The mercenaries in particular took delight in prolonging the death of their foes. Cowed Cathar woman and children were being led away as slaves, any who showed spirit were slaughtered, their bodies a warning to the few survivors. The incendiary weapons had done their work well, and by dusk the city would be nothing but ash and smoke to mourn the passing of so many. Perhaps four hundred Mandalorian soldiers had fallen in battle. Half would never fight again or were dead; the rest would recover. Against this, thousands upon thousands of Cathar lay dead in this city alone, out in the countryside, more were being hunted down and slain.

Lord Takaegi, son of Mandalore and commander of this army looked around in approval, seeing only glory. His new weapons of war, the Basilisk and the Manticore had been tried and tested and his men had proved themselves, even the mercenaries.

"My lord, we have their skulking king," a chieftain announced, bowing before his lord.

"Bring him to me," he ordered, his face showing revulsion that such a creature still lived.

The King was considerably more battered than when he had bade his family farewell. For one, his mercenary captors had torn off one of his ears and broken several of his ribs with a sort of casual brutality that Takaegi both admired and despised.

The Cathar tried to speak but the Mandalorian Noble smashed his face into the furred jaw, there was a wet crack and a stream of dark blood.

"Was any message sent to the Republic?" Takaegi asked. After the Cathar refused to answer, the son of Mandalore took the now broken jaw in his armoured hand and twisted it brutally. The pained gurgle made the Mandalorian smile. "Get rid of it, it has nothing I need."

As the mercenaries drew their knives, Takaegi turned away, it had been a successful day for him. Mandalore would be pleased, now preparations could truly begin.

The watchful eyes of the MICO; Military Intelligence and Covert Operations bureau did not miss this event. A report found its way to Admiral Chearaux just three weeks after the first shot was fired as well as to the commanding officer of the sectors adjoining the edge of Republic Space. Unfortunately, the Commander-in-Chief was not really interested in reports from outside his jurisdiction and so buried it under a mound of papers in the hopes it would go away. It did, during a clean out of the Coruscant office, the message was mistaken for rubbish and disposed of. Thus Chearaux could go back to his twenty year old mistress and forget he had even received the message about some backwater planet outside the Republic.

Thus the Republic had no idea of what awaited them in the dark beyond the edge of their patrol zones. The Mandalore prepared, the Republic sat indolent, and the Sith brooded in the darkness, awaiting the time to return.


	5. Chapter 4a

First of all, much thanks and appreciation goes to Prisoner24601. I forgot to acknowledge her at the beginning of the last chapter. What was I thinking?! Anyway, much thanks to her for her continued help and support!

Next, thanks for all the great reviews! I now have eighteen, that may not be many for some of those who read this, but it is more than I have ever received put together, almost. Thanks to all who made this contribution, I hope to hear your feedback in the future!

_Ether fanfic_ (2) – Thanks for the reviews! Now I am back I will be reviewing and reading your chapters. The Basilisks are based on the mech type battle droids; that just seemed so appropriate. The sight of the lumbering machines blasting apart all before them was too good to pass up! I'm glad you like Saul; I went out on a limb with that but it seemed right and proper that he should be a real iron hearted man. Don't worry, this chapter has lots more of his special brand of talking. I'm glad you like Jedi Levarne; poor thing doesn't know what she's got herself into.

_KOTOR Guy_ – Thanks for the review! I do hope you will read more.

_Brynn_ – I do have a beta reader, Prisoner. Any mistakes are probably in things that I have added after she has looked at it. I admit it, I'm a picker, can never well enough alone. I am glad you like it and are looking forward to more. I hope this chapter is to your liking. Any questions or comments, e-mail me and I'll be sure to answer you. Great story by the way!

_Alice_ – Thanks a lot for your reviews, I am in the process of reading your new chapters. As you may have guessed, I am a military history buff and I wanted to do the fall of Cathar as a sort of appetiser before the slaughter to come. Yeah, the Republic is corrupt, inefficient and has a monumental bureaucracy, none of this helps does it? I am pleased you like Revan's first steps to darkness, we will see more from him soon.

_Snackfiend101_ – I tried a female Revan once but it didn't really work with the character I wanted to portray. Nobody had done, what I had thought, was a proper pre-game story so here it is. I hope you like it and will continue to read it. If you have any comments, do drop me an e-mail.

_Prisoner24601_ – What can I say that has not been said already? Thanks for the kind comments and continued advice. I liked the battle on Cathar, I'm glad you did too. BTW, really liked your last chapters!

This is part one of chapter four. It made sense to break it up because…because I wanted to. Hmm, anyways, enjoy and leave a review if it pleases you.

LV

Chapter 4 – Three Years Later (K-14)

Saul Karath was not a popular man, but he was not one to listen to the whining cavils of civilians and fools. As long as he fulfilled his job and got something back for it he happily disregarded the mutterings of people who had no grasp of what he was doing. In the three years he had been master of the Kuat Fleet Academy, Saul had single-handedly changed the Academy, it was a change for the better. His unyielding views on discipline and precision had made him famous throughout the Republic Navy, even if his opinions were not agreed with. However, like or dislike, he always gained admiration, even from the cadets who studied under him. Now he had the unflattering nickname of 'Iron Post' in an unfunny play on his title of Post Captain. Saul took it as a compliment that his message was finally getting across. Now he sat in the office that had once been occupied by Carias Lavoran, but the office had changed. In keeping with his rigid ideas about discipline and necessity, the fine wood panelling and old style furniture was gone, replaced with white walls and functional equipment.

Saul was a tall man, about six foot two with the noticeable grey hair that had given him his nickname. He wore the standard uniform of a Post Captain as he worked at his desk. There was a knock on the door; the Captain looked up with a mix of irritation and calm.

"Enter," he said loudly, probably more so than necessary.

"Sir, Cadet Onasi is here as requested," Saul's aide de camp said from near the door.

"Acknowledged Lieutenant, come in Cadet," he said with all the warmth of a glacier.

Carth Onasi, his blue uniform jacket still looking new walked forward into the room. He had changed in the three years since he had entered the academy; he had become a man more dedicated to the Republic for a start. Beyond that, the three years of constant training had done more than any number of years in the TDF could. He was now a soldier, groomed and equipped for leading the military of the future. But somehow, he felt out of place. He had worked to earn his place in the Academy, had more fighting experience than any cadet but still he was unwelcome. He was irregular, a man not born to privilege, to money or power but still a better fighter than most of the cadets would ever be. He often wondered if he had done the right thing in accepting Colonel Greve's offer; it was a double edged sword he had often thought. Just because he was not nobly educated or did not have the money, those around him treated him as something beneath them.

"Cadet Onasi reporting sir," Carth said woodenly. Speaking unemotionally to senior officers was one of the first things a soldier learned.

"So I see. Perhaps though, we are remiss in giving you a rank yet. That only comes to those who pass their exams, yes?"

In those few words, the standing Captain had made Carth more terrified than at any time as an officer in the TDF. "Yes sir," he said, swallowing nervously.

"Well, Cadet, I know that you took your final exams yesterday. I have no doubt that you will be pleased to have that trial finished." His words conveyed a very slight disapproval, and Carth did not know what to say.

"Yes sir," he replied, always the best answer until he got a clue.

"I see that you can salute and agree with me Cadet. This is good, in the right circumstances that is. But if I wanted a machine I would have gotten a droid." His voice showed irritation again; Carth was desperate for something to say, knowing he would say the wrong thing. He cursed his lack of social graces.

"Yes sir," he said, giving up and settling with something predictable.

"Hmm, well I suppose I should tell you why you are here. Sit man, sit," Saul ordered vaguely but remained standing himself. Without pausing to see if his order was obeyed, he resumed his conversation, looking out over the Fleet Yards. "You, Cadet are not a man of privilege are you? Accepted here by the graces of our mutual friend Colonel Greves yes?" His tone of voice implied he did not like the Colonel.

"Yes sir I was. He considered it payment for services I rendered him, sir."

Saul turned, his fierce eyes on the cadet. "Indeed, so you got here through merit, or so it is said. You know what Cadet?"

"No sir?" Carth said, fearful of the iron willed man before him.

"I have read the report from that incident out on Telos. I will say that, even if it was exaggerated, you did well." His silence indicated he wanted a response.

"I did what I could sir; I tried to do my duty."

"As we must all strive to do, Cadet," Saul said icily. "What is your view of your fellow Cadets?"

Carth knew this was an extremely dangerous question, it was not a time for the truth. Saul Karath owed this good post to his connections higher up. "Sir, I do not often think about it. My job is to complete my studies as completely as I can, not pass judgement on my comrades. Asking me to make a judgement on all of them is not something I am competent to judge."

Saul's lips twisted for a slight second, then his iron posture returned. "No you are not. Are you sure you are in the right building? I never figured a Telosian would give me such a diplomatic answer." His words implied disdain at the point of origin, "nevertheless, you are right. I admit I was trying to trip you but you avoided me. I will not talk of the exam as the results have not been finalised but I have studied your record with interest. You have received only three demerits for discipline since you have been here, I must say I did not expect this."

Carth knew the man was referring to his lack of high station as the reason for his surprise. "I did what I could sir."

"Yes, yes and so we go on. You are the only cadet with fighting experience in your class, that is something not thrown aside. I have looked at your work, barring any unfortunate slips, I think I can safely say that you passed Cadet. But what then? You do not have the money or power to garner a good place. Most likely it will be garrison duty on Exxilon or some such wasteland."

Carth's breath caught in his throat, he had never considered what would happen after his graduation, he had never expected to pass. Captain Karath certainly knew how to make a man unsure.

"I will go where I am placed sir," he said as calmly as he could.

"Of course you will or you will be shot for desertion," Saul growled. His voice softened marginally, "there is an alternative though."

"Sir?"

"If you should pass this final test, then come and talk to me."

"Sir, about what-"

"That is all I will say on the matter, Cadet. You are dismissed," Saul Karath said icily.

"Yes sir," Carth said. He saluted then walked from the room.

Captain Karath shook his head, then went back to his daily report that would be passed to his father-in-law, Admiral Chearaux.

Carth felt like he had just run ten leagues as he walked back down from the pinnacle towards his room. The cadets he passed, both older and younger ignored him yet somehow portrayed that something unpleasant was walking past them. It had nothing to do with his appearance; in reality he was a good looking man who looked considerably better than most of those around him. He was still nervous around women, occasioned by the fact he had never talked to one who was not a teacher or had not thought him beneath them. He was unusual though, most men of aristocratic birth took womanising as a given. They had the money and no one complained so there was no issue. Carth however was poor, he was also the sort of man who despised such activities. It was yet another thing pinned against him by his fellow cadets. Carth had never let these frustrations out and with the end so near, he would not do it now.

The Count de Mouirs, an arrogant man a year older than Carth, sniffed in disapproval as he walked past. The Count was one of the lucky officers who got posted to the Kuat Academy, a spot of luxury and no danger. It was easier than one might suppose; his father was a close friend to the Commander-in-Chief and so it had been rather more than luck that had landed him his position.

"Telosian," he said as a half insult, half demeaning description.

Carth muttered something as he walked past but as it turned out, the Count was looking for trouble.

"What was that Cadet?" he asked in the pompous tone of voice that such people always used to those lower than them.

"Nothing Count, I just have a lot on my mind," Carth answered diplomatically.

"In case it has slipped you mind, Cadet, I outrank you. You will call me sir."

Carth only just contained the urge to break the arrogant man's nose. "My apologies, sir."

The Count sniffed, seemingly a common thing for him, at least around Carth anyway. "You know that my father is third in command of the Republic Navy, it would be easy to have you removed."

Carth carefully showed no reaction, standing to something like polite attention. "No disrespect intended sir," he said.

"Hmm, off you go Cadet. I will let it go this time."

Carth walked away as the arrogant older man dismissively turned away to talk with his equals. Carth sighed, he told himself that he would one day be alone with that fool and teach him a few manners.

The relieved but still slightly irritated Cadet Onasi unlocked the door to his room and stepped inside. Like all cadets, he shared the small, bland room with another man of his age. The Kuat Academy brought in cadets of all ages from eighteen upward. Despite this however, Carth was still older than most of those around him. Therefore, by one of those strokes of luck that rarely seemed to be with him, Carth had been put with someone who was not only his own age but also someone agreeable. The room had a bed to left and right, a small second room which doubled as a bathroom and study. A window looked out over the endless depths of space, the beauty partly compensating for the spartan room.

Carth sat on his bed, wondering what he should do now. He was nervous of his results though he could do nothing about it. Tomorrow he would find out whether he would truly become what he wanted. Carth was just about to get up and leave the room when his friend and roommate entered his quarters.

Julius Solon pushed his black hair away from his green eyes and smiled a very brief smile.

"Wondering where you'd got to, back here again are you?"

"Apparently Julius, I just got back from meeting the Iron Post."

"You've not been drinking again have you? You know he hates that." In any other man Carth would have been irritated by the smug, aristocratic tone which marked Solon as a man of high rank. His father was one of the High Council of Alderaan, a duke no less and a powerful man. As well as this, his father was the Republic Ambassador to Troiken, a prestigious and wealthy post which a man would have to be insane to pass up. The arrogance that men in lesser positions felt was not shared by the Solon family though, since they had come from nothing to their place. Julius' father never let him forget that forty years ago, he had been a small land owner on an outer rim world, an insignificant man. He had been promoted to glory because of his inspirational work for the Republic in the Sith War, raising an entire division of outer rim men and leading them to battle in the final siege of Yavin. During this, Datus Solon had saved the current King of Alderaan, then a young man. His reward was a dukedom and the patronage of the Varia Dynasty.

"No Julius, I have not been drinking, I might later though. Anyway, where you been?"

"Over the hills and far away my boy. In reality I was winning some money back on Pazaak."

Carth looked up, "I thought that was banned?"

"Well, we don't bet money, just promise cards, nothing wrong with betting scraps of paper is it?"

"So let me get this straight, the son of Duke Datus Solon is breaking the rules his father helped establish?" Carth laughed, "a bit hypocritical isn't it?"

"I don't see the problem dear boy," Julius said in his smug voice. "You will be pleased to know that I won back six hundred credits, enough for a few days."

Carth forbore to mention that his family had earned that equivalent in Republic currency a year; to the son of the Duke it was small change. "Results and graduation tomorrow, so I'm not drinking anything," he said, looking pointedly at Solon.

"Well neither shall I, I have appearances to maintain."

"So you've got another escort have you? How gentile of you," Carth said with a frown.

The man shrugged, "And there I was thinking you had got yourself a woman to warm your bed tonight. Only reason not to have a drink my boy."

"Where do you get them from?" Carth asked in puzzlement.

"Good things come to those with deep pockets my impoverished friend. The only reason people don't respect you is that you have nothing of value, nothing they can see."

"I am a better soldier than all of them," Carth protested.

"Granted, but merit will not get you far in this navy Carth," Julius said seriously. Then his face became relaxed once more, "You think the Iron Post knows everything that goes on?"

"I think he is just waiting for the time to rope you all in," Carth muttered.

"And what better time than the day before the end eh," Julius considered. "You make a good case Captain Pauper, I will stay here tonight and you can be enamoured by my good looks and charm."

"I swear Julius, you are a pompous bastard sometimes," Carth said with a chuckle.

"Just for you dear boy. I saw you having trouble with our mutual friend, the Count before, anything I can do?"

"No, he was just pulling rank on me."

"Although it is not proper and fair, an annoying lieutenant is still a lieutenant. You had better get used to it my boy; the galaxy is filled with high ranked fools. Most of them think they are better because they have a couple of bars, eventually they realise that in the end, they are nothing. And merit can get you far, but only in war."

"Because in war, the fools are separated from the true men?" Carth asked only half seriously.

"Exactly, though usually the fools cause a lot of problems before they are found out. Such is the way of the government we live in."

"On second thoughts, go and find your trollop, you're just making me depressed," Carth said moodily.

Julius sat down beside him, flashing a cocky smile, "no, I think you're right this time. Plenty of time for that after I become a soldier, yes?"

"I have no doubt Julius," Carth muttered, reaching for a bottle of cheap spirits. "To the Republic," he muttered.

Carth was sure that he would have been drunk if it were not for the fact that Julius Solon had tactfully removed the bottle after only a single glass. The nobleman smiled and went to sleep; his friend soon followed, determined not to be caught wanting on the morning after.

The two men were woken after a few moments by the usual call, a piece of synthesised music that was the usual call to attention.

"So Carth, you had better have been right about last night," Julius grumbled.

"Even if I'm not, it still isn't right," Carth said without thinking.

Julius snorted, "so that's the reason is it? Too much of a moralistic man to engage is such activities. It is a business like any other, still, at least I am not tired this morning."

"And the instructors wondered why you fell asleep in class? Not like you keep it secret."

Julius Solon smiled rakishly as he pulled on his blue uniform coat and cap. For some reason, despite his pursuit of other interests, his uniform was still always perfectly tidy and neat. "I never failed though did I?"

"Pride comes before a fall Julius," Carth said happily.

"Sounding like a Jedi, those damn mystics are always spouting their rhetoric," Julius' tone implied he did not like Jedi.

"I've only met a Dark Jedi and he near killed me," Carth admitted.

His friend shrugged, "never mind, I just don't trust them. Neither do most of the men in charge. Remember that."

Carth was about to defend them but stopped himself, he knew nothing about the Order. "Come on Duke, let us go to our doom."

As they walked outside, still bantering about the Republic, they became aware that there was a great deal of commotion in the halls of the Academy. Carth grabbed a man a year younger than he was as he strode past.

"What's happening?"

The man shrugged, "the Captain caught a whole group of men in Sector Five. He's brought in marines, he wants to make an example of them. I'm going back to Sector Ten, I don't want any part of this."

The man was gone before Carth could interrogate him further, he looked to Solon who looked shocked and relieved.

"Thank you," he said breathlessly. "If I had been caught then…."

"That's what I'm here for Julius. Come on, let's go to the ceremony, if it's on."

The presentation ceremony was indeed still on, albeit with the addition of a platoon of the First Republic Marine Regiment. There were three hundred cadets in the same class as Carth and Julius, a fifth women and the rest men. It had always been thus. The Republic encouraged women to fight; it doubled their fighting strength and allowed for greater integration between them. More recently, aliens had been joining the Republic military, some with more success than others. In this current grade there was just eight of them, all Twi'leks who were considered the most human of all the alien species. If Carth was looked down on, then he was venerated compared to the unfortunate Twi'leks. Saul Karath did not like non-humans, but then, he didn't like anybody much. At least the Twi'leks kept to themselves and caused no trouble. The cadets were nearly assembled, forming into narrow, deep ranks as they always did. Carth stood next to one of the Twi'leks, a good man named Ta'al. The lekku of the green sentient was nearly still, wrapped around his neck defensively. He had good reason though, for Captain Saul Karath, his blue uniform imposing had moved onto the stage. The instructors and staff of the Academy clearly feared him and no wonder, he was the epitome of a naval officer: a man of fierce courage and determination.

"Gentlemen," he stated. He needed no amplifier, his commanding voice was clearly audible before the three hundred men. He always referred to the cadets as 'gentlemen', not because he had issues with women but because he was a man who did not say things that were unnecessary. "Or should I say cadets? For it will be the last time I call you that. For better or worse, I shall not see most of you again. How you have worked in the last years will determine whether you leave as a soldier of the Republic, or a failure. There is no middle ground, no room for procrastination. Like in war, you succeed or you die. That is how it works gentlemen. Three hundred there are in this class but only two hundred and eighty seven I see here, the others?"

Saul Karath gestured to the side where there was a sudden commotion. Thirteen men emerged, in normal civilian clothes, guarded by three marines with loaded weapons. They were all cadets from this age group, all looked indignant and Carth could tell that Saul Karath may have just made a huge mistake.

"Men who have disgraced their uniforms; men who are not worthy of the titles they own. I gave them a chance and this is how they repay me? It is a disgrace gentlemen, a disgrace that men of the Republic think they can so flagrantly flaunt my rules. I am in charge here and I have asked twice that such behaviour be discontinued, then I decided to see their mettle. For this and other problems caused, these men, look at them well, for they are all relieved of their duties here."

There was a murmur of surprise, consternation even. The sons of senators and nobles were there, men who would cause trouble for the Captain.

"Silence!" Saul said, raising his voice slightly. "No more will be said of this. The remainder of you shall now be told if you are fit to wear the uniform of the Republic."

Carth waited in line, his heart pounding as he gradually inched forward. He could see some of the men being given their single bar as an Ensign. It was symbolic as most would have their promotion to second lieutenant organised within days, money was all the skill they needed. He also saw the men who had failed, those who slunk away to the amused looks of the successful students. The man in front of Carth saluted the tall army captain who had the results, evidently pleased.

"Cadet Onasi yes?" he asked unemotionally.

"Yes sir," Carth said as well as he was able.

The man flicked through the datapad he had in his hand, he looked up with a dry smile.

"Congratulations Ensign Onasi, you came twelfth in your class." The Captain held out two shoulder-boards which held the single bar of a naval ensign.

"Thank you sir," Carth said and saluted.

"Yes, yes indeed, now move along," the man ordered briskly.

Carth just about to approach the fearsome Captain Karath to talk to him as the officer had asked when the Captain was interrupted. A nervous Marine Lieutenant approached and spoke hurriedly to Saul. The Captain's eyes widened then he snorted dismissively and strode from the stage.

Carth looked after the Captain; he was puzzled as to what had happened. The look on Saul's face had been one of shock and annoyance. Carth's musings was interrupted by a hand slapping his shoulder, and he turned to see Julius Solon with a happy smile on his face.

"So you passed did you? Thought you would. And thanks to you, I'm not number fourteen being kicked out."

"You listened to me at last Julius. So what did you get?"

"Eighth my boy, eighth," Julius said vaguely. Carth was incredulous, whilst the duke's son had wasted time and lived a noble's life, Carth had worked to get where he was now. Julius saw his vaguely annoyed face, "How you ask? I had to keep up a reputation but I also wanted to do what I was here to do. I worked just as hard as you Carth."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"Of course you did," the noble said happily. "Don't worry, I'll find her and make up for my absence," he smiled winningly at his scowling friend. "Cheer up, I'm sure you'll rake in the ladies, they love the uniforms, see?"

"So, you have your promotion sorted out already?" Carth asked gruffly.

"You could say that, Second Lieutenant Solon is going to join my father in Troiken as ADC to Admiral Nivelle. You know him?"

"Not personally," Carth muttered.

"Anyway, he is commander of the Third Fleet. I have a liaison position between him and the commander of the Troiken Military Forces, Duke Albrecht. Just a junior position of course, but good enough."

"Well I have to go and see Captain Karath himself later. I'll wait for his summons though, he looked kind of flustered."

"I wonder…." Solon said thoughtfully. He shook his head, "Never mind. Let's go get a drink while you wait for the Iron Post."

Saul Karath, while not a young man was lean and wiry, seemingly growing fitter and tougher every year. At the moment, his purposeful stride was scattering aides and cadets from his path like a comet's passage warps gravity. People backed away before the seemingly unstoppable man with the blue eyes and scowl of concentration. He headed to the main docking bay of the Kuat Academy, a vast hanger built around the equator of the station. This place was huge, a docking bay over three hundred yards from wall to wall and half that from the door to the electron barriers. There had been a time when hangers had had to be abandoned when ships landed as the space between the outer and inner walls became a vacuum. Just over a century ago however, there had been a remarkable invention, electron interface screens. Basically, they allowed objects to pass through, but did not subject the hangers to depressurisation.

Saul neither thought nor cared of this as he stood and watched a single ship land before him; an Invictus Class Shuttle. It was a large and impressive ship with the traditional Republic sleek body and silvery grey colour common to all naval ships. The ship settled down with not so much as a clank, there was a hiss of vapour and the boarding ramp opened. The men of the First Marine Regiment formed an honour guard to either side of the ramp, they clearly knew who was on board. Saul suppressed his irritation as he saw two uniformed men coming towards him.

Commodore Halus Moreau, the commander of the Fifth Sector Fleet and second in command of all the Second Fleet walked across the metal floor. He exchanged salutes with the marines, leading his companion down the stairs towards Captain Karath. Saul stood to attention, saluting the Commodore whose golden eagle epaulettes were bright in the artificial light.

"Sir, your presence is unexpected. If I had had more warning then I could have prepared a better welcome."

"Doubtless you would Captain but I do not need a welcome."

Saul wondered why the hell the man, a Commodore, was here. Then it dawned on him, he knew the man behind Moreau; Captain Millet Delzon, his nemesis. The man was another in law of the Commander-in-Chief, but he was a sycophant to Admiral Chearaux, a man who said anything to please the older man. Now it seemed he had twisted a few wires to get himself here.

Moreau saw the look Saul gave the Captain, a look of disgust and dislike, he stood aside so the men could clearly see each other.

"Captain Karath, I believe you have met Captain Delzon," he said blandly.

Saul did not trust himself to speak, so he nodded rigidly. Moreau was facing only Saul now and gave him a look that seemed to say he would explain later. If there was one man in the Republic High Command that Saul actually trusted, it was Moreau. The Commodore had been a soldier as long as Daguerre, and was a solid man who had fought in the little known First Mandalore War ten years before.

"Captain Delzon is here to assume command of the Academy and its attendant forces."

Saul was stunned. Utterly shocked, he had had no warning. To him this sounded like political assassination, and one look at the smug face of his rival only confirmed that. "Yes sir, and what of me sir?"

"You, Captain Karath, have become a respected man in the Republic. We have seen what you can do with these men, how they respect you and even admire you. You are wasted here in the confines of the Academy, your skills are of far more use elsewhere."

Saul was feeling better and better as the man talked on. What pleased him more was the sight of Delzon's round face growing dark with anger, the jowls quivering with rage. "What is my new role sir?" he asked Moreau politely to annoy Delzon.

"You are to be my head of intelligence and report only to myself and Admiral Fenrick. Now I know that Intel is not your chosen field but I need a man who can draw together the webs of intrigue. Someone with the skills needed to manage people and make decisions. You are that man Captain."

Saul sighed, he finally had what he wanted, a real command but one away from danger. Delzon's bulging eyes showed an almost apocalyptic anger at the sight of his hated brother-in-law being promoted over him. The newly promoted head of Intel for the Second Fleet could also count himself lucky that he was under one of only two sector fleet commanders who actually knew their job. The other was Daguerre but it would be a warm day on Tar'axos before Saul served under Philippe Daguerre. The other eight men and the three Fleet Commanders were all fools in the Captain's opinion, men who had just enough wit and money to get promoted. The only two other rising stars were both captains: Forn Dodonna and Tarik Veirloth, but neither had the money to threaten Saul's place.

"Sir, I must protest-" Delzon began in a throaty voice.

"Your protest is noted and rejected, Captain. I have orders from Admiral Chearaux himself. Besides, it was you who campaigned for this position."

"Just so he could get rid of me," Saul said under his breath, covering himself with a cough. "Thank you sir, and good luck to you Captain," he said louder, flashing a smile at Delzon. He had won, and the plump man could only glare in response.

"Come, walk with me Captain Karath," Moreau commanded.

"It will take some time to finish up my duties here," Saul said, intimating he would be very swift indeed if his brother-in-law was moving in.

"You shall have all the time you need but I would ask for your haste as much as is practical. You may take with you your staff and two cadets if you choose."

"Yes sir," Saul said, his brief joy at defeating his rival dissipating to his normal mood.

"Good, by the way, I heard what you did with the cadets. It has earned a lot of heat."

"They refused to accept the rules and ordinates set down by the Academy, they deserve what they got," Saul said dismissively.

"There are rumours that you provided the inequities to trap them."

"And yet some, such as Datus' bastard avoided the trap. Just because they see the doxies doesn't mean they have to drop their trousers."

"I can see you're going to go well in Intel," Moreau said with a chuckle.

Carth knocked on the door hesitantly, there was the sound of bumping and crunching from inside. The soldier frowned; he wondered what was going on inside the room. It sounded like somebody was moving heavy furniture. Carth heard a commanding voice calling him to enter, and he put his doubts aside and pushed his way into the room. The smallish room was indeed being renovated, or at least pulled apart. The walls, white to start, were in the process of having the pictures removed. The filing cabinets were open, the files removed and left empty. The desk had been cleared off since the day before leaving it bare before the Ensign as he saluted the man behind it.

"Ensign Onasi reporting sir."

"So I see, I also see that you have not had time to update your uniform," Saul said in a neutral tone.

"Sir, I was in the process of doing this when your summons came."

"For once, this slackness is good," Saul said but did not give Carth a clue as to what he was thinking. "I have been reassigned Ensign, promoted if you will. I am leaving the Academy behind me. Now my need for junior men I know has risen considerably."

"Congratulations sir," Carth said woodenly, knowing he was in for it whatever he said.

"Never was there a more emphatic compliment Ensign," Saul commented dryly. "But truly, I have looked over this grade and find few people of use to me. Most think too high of themselves, others wouldn't know a gun if they fired it and none of them can lead. You are the exception Ensign, you have fought and led men before. And all the money in the Republic cannot hide the fact that you are the only man with combat experience. You killed a man Onasi?"

"Yes sir, several," Carth said. It was not a source of pride to him.

"And? Your thoughts?" Saul demanded.

"I had no choice sir, they would have killed me if I had not fired. I have no regret."

"That's what I like Ensign, knowing you did the right thing. Now, I have orders here for you to join me in my new role. We will get to that in a moment, but first we decide if you wish to join my team. Voluntary of course, but from what I hear, my brother-in-law has you down for a posting to Lidium. A fine place but on the backside of nowhere, where even an hour seems like a day."

When put like that, Carth had no choice, "I accept sir."

"Good. You are now an officer in Military Intelligence, we work with MICO but are not truly part of them. It is our job to keep the treacherous bastards in the Senate from getting hysterical and ordering us to attack something because they have brains the size of a tach. We sort out the gold dust from the mud, and find out what is really happening. Trust nobody and believe everybody is a traitor and you cannot go far wrong."

"How will I know what to look for sir?" Carth asked.

The Captain waved dismissively, "I tell you of course. You learn very quickly how to discard half of the stuff you get in. Use brains and common sense boy."

"Yes sir," Carth said, awaiting the cue to leave. It seemed though that Saul Karath had more to say.

"I'm making you a brevet lieutenant," Saul said in an off hand way. A brevet Lieutenant was a man who had the temporary rank until a post was actually available. Carth would be treated as a full Lieutenant and be paid as such. However, if the promotion was not confirmed or if he sold his commission, it would be at an Ensign's rank.

"Sir?" Carth was jolted from his daze.

"You heard me, Lieutenant," Saul growled.

"Thank you sir," Carth said, not knowing what he had done to earn the promotion, Saul soon told him.

"Don't thank me. I'm not sure you deserve it. In fact I'm positive you don't. You need it though, if you work for me you need more clout than being an ensign, I can't have snot nosed boys telling you what to do."

"Yes sir."

"Good, now go away Lieutenant and be ready to leave in two day's time. Remember you are under my orders, no one else's, right?"

"Of course sir. Thank you sir."

"Take the lieutenant's bars and have them ready tonight."

"I would be honoured sir," Carth said, unfortunately his words had no effect.

"Go Lieutenant," Saul said and went back to removing from the room anything his in-law might use.

Carth wandered back to his room in a daze, still not daring to believe the break he had been gifted with. He silently thanked the irascible Captain for his help and then pressed on through the station. Opening the door to his room, he saw Julius Solon gathering up his belongings, ready to leave. The cadets had just four days to be ready to make way for the new wave of people that would enter into the Kuat Academy.

"Ah, there you are my boy," Julius said happily. "Survived the meeting with the old firebrand eh?"

Carth wordlessly handed his new epaulettes to his friend. The one silver ring of a naval lieutenant glinted in the light of the small room. Julius' green eyes opened in surprise, shock and pleasure.

"How in the name of the nine circles did you do it?" he asked breathlessly. His shoulders already had the two bars of a second lieutenant upon them.

"It's brevet only, my new job requires I have some standing, enough to get my work done." Carth flashed a wolfish grin, "and you should call me sir."

"When Tar'axos melts," Julius said grandly. "Congratulations though, I knew your experience would be recognised, sir."

"I was just kidding Julius. In two years and one month you'll be a full lieutenant and outrank me." Twenty five months was the required seniority before he could buy his next commission. Carth on the other hand would never have the sixty thousand credits for that promotion to be a full lieutenant. That, however was the way of the Republic.

"Enjoy it until then my boy. So where you headed?"

"Saul's taking Intel with Second Fleet directly under Moreau."

"Moreau's a worthy man, better than his chief. But while Fenrick is still around, Moreau will always be his second. You'll do well I think."

"Thank you. when are you leaving?"

"In the morning, I take the shuttle to Coruscant then go on to Troiken. Nivelle has his ships in orbit around the Republic side of the border. You?"

"Two days, I'll be with Fifth Sector Fleet, stationed out near Sullust, monitoring events as much as possible. I think I can count on being busy."

"Doubtless. While you do the hard work, my inferior personage shall be in charge of the Ambassador's drinks cabinet. Or more likely, his women."

"You are a sick man Julius. Has today taught you nothing?"

"Of course not. Where would I be if it did?" he asked grandly.

"Take care of yourself Julius," Carth said, scooping up his shoulder boards.

"Don't worry about me, I am the soul of caution," his friend said and went back to his packing.

It was two days later, the day of Carth's departure from the Academy, he hoped he never had to see it again. Gathering up his bag and holding it under his arm he looked around his room for the last time. Satisfied that he had left nothing behind, Carth walked out into the corridors of the station. Julius had left the day before so Carth left the empty room to the next generation of soldiers. Carth felt almost maliciously happy when he met his old enemy, the Count of Mouirs in the hallway. The bright silver ring on his epaulettes dulled the other man's two bars down to insignificance, Carth smiled.

"Lieutenant, I see you are well," he said in his most arrogant tone.

"Yes sir," the tone of loathing was undeniable.

"Carry on, Lieutenant," Carth said and left the man to stew in his anger.

A transport lay in wait for Captain Karath's arrival, smaller than the one that had brought Moreau to the station. Karath's ADC, Lieutenant Commander Aalin nodded stiffly as Carth approached. She was five years older than Carth and was a former MICO operative, beyond that, Carth did not know a thing about her.

"Lieutenant, you are here. The Captain should be arriving soon so stay here." Her words were formal, straight and business like, a person who did not mess with niceties.

"Yes sir," Carth said, remembering the honorific was the same for all genders and races.

"Good," she said flatly. Her accent was strange lilting on the softer consonants, it clearly was not her birth language.

Carth checked his equipment, making sure it was all in order before he left. He looked around at the interior of the hanger, it had felt like a lifetime ago that he was on Telos. The very memory of that first battle he had fought was like a dream, belonging to a different man, a less fortunate man. Now he stood as a brevet Lieutenant, assigned to something meaningful, he hoped he would get a chance to do something.

"Lieutenant," Aalin said, Carth pulled himself from his daze.

"Sir?"

"Captain Karath is here, look sharp," she snapped as the Captain entered the room. Beside him was Millet Delzon. The two were trying to be civil but it was clear that every action made irritated the other. Others, instructors and other officers had come into the room to see the Captain's last speech before he left for the new posting.

"Gentlemen, I stand here on the last day of my posting here, we have done well in three years. And all I ask is that Captain Delzon continue my work and follow my ideals."

This clearly annoyed his brother-in-law but he could not show it. Instead he steadied his voice, "and I am pleased to accept this responsibility."

Saul Karath's face did not change but most people got the distinct impression he was greatly amused by the insults he heaped on his rival. "Remember, never let down your guard, traitors and scum are everywhere."

The slight flick of the eyes Saul gave his brother-in-law almost caused order to break down in the room completely. With their military training though, ever person present managed to compose themselves. Delzon missed the hidden meaning but nodded seriously in a pompous and arrogant way.

"Quite true, I will be on guard for any subversive behaviour."

"Then we will be leaving. Captain," he said the last word as he saluted his enemy.

Carth followed Saul Karath up the ramp, accompanied by his ADC and three other aides. With a snap, the boarding ramp closed and locked. The ship lifted off and Carth Onasi went to his destiny.

The _Intrepid_ was Commodore Moreau's flagship. It was a Justice Class Battlecruiser, the newest command ship in the fleet. Carth had never been so close to such a monster, the monolithic sides loomed above him. The ship was shaped vaguely like a half teardrop, a relatively flat bottom with a gently rising top. Eventually, at the top was the long and low bridge which looked over the entire ship. Dozens of gun batteries crowned the hard-points of the ship, fighter bays ran across the bottom and at the rear were the massive engines which drove the ship. The ship had a central line that ran straight from the bridge down to the very tip, a straight line from back to front running downwards. On both sides however, the sides sloped downwards, allowing greater weapon coverage than if the ship had had flat sides. The ship moved and docked at the bottom rear of the ship, Carth knew that the ship had to be several miles long at least. All around Carth were the shapes of other ships, mighty cruisers and destroyers protected by the attendant swarms of fighters and small gunboats. Then, his view was blocked out as the ship was drawn into the bottom of the vast vessel.

Carth waited until the shuttle had stopped, then stood to follow his new chief down the front ramp. Through the electron screen, Carth could see the watery world of Sullust before the massive metal blast doors closed and sealed out the view. An honour guard of the ship's marines stood to attention as they passed on. A dozen fighters waited in this hanger alone and there was at least a score of similar hangers over the ship. Carth was awed but did not show it as he followed the Commodore, the Captain and the four other officers through the marines and out. A ship this large had to have a quick way to move between the various points that was faultless. This had been solved by a series of track-locked trams that could cover the near three miles from front to back in just under a minute. With this, threatened parts of the ship could be reached with ease.

"Lieutenant?" Saul Karath demanded as Carth approached.

"Sir."

"Ensign Gleath will show you your quarters. You will be on deck tomorrow an hour after reverie."

"Yes sir," Carth saluted and followed the young Ensign away.

It took more than half an hour before Carth finally reached his room, a room on the port side with no window. It was still twice the size of his room and the Academy and for that he was thankful. It was a good enough room with simple furniture, bolted down to stop it moving during flight. It also featured a holovid machine and a comfortable bed, as good as Carth had ever had.

"Is there anything else, sir?" the Ensign asked neutrally.

"No, that is all. Be on your way," he ordered.

Carth found a map of the ship loaded into a datapad on his desk, and he studied it as he sat on his adopted bed.

Despite the earliness of the hour, the bridge was still busy. The command deck was longer than most other ships of its size. Built as a command ship as much as a fighting ship, the _Intrepid_ was the heart of Intel operations in the south west of the galaxy. Commodore Moreau and Captain Karath stood in a private room off the bridge, looking at a holographic visage of a planet. The planet was green from much vegetation, interspersed with wide stretches of water. The only cleared areas were around the few settlements, clearly shown as red blobs on the map. The two officers were deep in discussion, gesturing at the map.

"Are we sure of this?"

"The intelligence was quite clear," Moreau said calmly,

Saul glowered at the map, "Damn traitors. If there is one thing I despise, it is traitors."

Moreau nodded absently and looked down at the information in front of him. Laq'orn, that was where the trouble was. The history was laid before him: a neutral world that had never been of any importance, until now. The fact was, the Republic did not have boundaries and territory like a terrestrial empire. After all, there were relatively few planets that were occupied and many of these were not part of the galaxy wide Republic. Laq'orn was one such place, once home to a small civilisation of ape like creatures, they had been discovered a few centuries before by a Jedi expedition. The people there had traded with the Republic for many decades before contact was lost about thirty years before the present. Since so much else happened during this time, one small planet was forgotten, until now at least.

"It says here that the men are Sith and Republic deserters who have formed themselves an army that raids nearby systems. Is this true?" Saul asked in wonder.

"It would appear so, my information was very precise."

"And where does this information come from?" Saul demanded.

"A trusted MICO man I have inside them. He attached a tracker to the hulls of the ship he was in."

"I thought this place was inhabited by another race," Saul said.

"Apparently the deserters have wiped them out," Moreau said gravely. "There are three reasons why we do not leave this scum to rot there until we can pick them off. Firstly, they are gaining notoriety; they pay well for little effort and no discipline, mercenaries and even our troops are being drawn to them. The last thing we want is an army of freebooters upsetting order and becoming privateers. Secondly, because of this, they have gotten bolder. They are making a nuisance of themselves and have raided several staunch Republican worlds. Lastly, they have attracted our ire by snatching the Governor of Artanis' daughter and all of her staff."

"They want to use her as a bargaining chip? How do they know we simply won't blast them all apart?"

Moreau grimaced at the suggestion, "Oh, they're clever enough to know we won't. The Governor wants his daughter back and he has gone over my head to make sure we do not simply liquidate the whole crowd of the scum."

"So we're having to dance to the tune of some two credit scum are we?" Saul was indignant, the right course was clear to him.

Moreau sighed, "yes we are. This may not seem major but we have to show that we follow the lead of the politicians. Artanis is out third largest supplier of electronic components and if we slight them I do not want to know the consequences."

"So what do you want me to do?" the Captain asked, both happy and annoyed at being given something so delicate.

"There is a ransom demand, we want one of our men to go down there and negotiate the release. Nobody who can be added to the hostages already there. If not, use your judgement."

"That makes me a lot happier, sir," Saul muttered.

"I thought it would," Moreau responded evenly. "Now, choose your man and get this transaction under way."

"Lieutenant Onasi," Saul's cutting voice was the first thing the new officer heard as he entered onto the bridge of the ship.

"Sir," Carth said, saluting.

"Just the man who I needed. Come with me," the Captain ordered. Saul stalked away towards a side room, Carth followed him across the bridge.

The room was the same one that Saul had met with Moreau in, and Saul stood behind the table. The holo-map was still activated, the visage of the blue-green world filling the centre of the round table. Carth took off his cap, tucked it under his arm and saluted once more.

"Sir?" he asked after a moment of silence. Like most soldiers, he had adopted the tactic of staring at the wall slightly above the Captain's left ear. It usually intimidated weak men. Therefore it had no effect on Saul Karath.

"Patience Lieutenant," he snapped. After another moment, he started pacing between the window and the far wall. "Have you heard of a planet called Laq'orn?"

"No sir," Carth replied dutifully.

"What about word of a rogue army of deserters attacking shipping?"

Carth nodded, that did ring a few distant bells. "I read it in one of the outer rim journals we got. I thought it was a myth."

"Apparently Lieutenant, it is true. These scum have taken this little known planet and made it their base. They include men from all armies as well as mercenaries and criminals. They have been raiding along the local trade routes for some months but nothing serious. Until now; just over a week ago, the daughter of the Governor of Artanis was heading with an escort to Thasos to be with her fiancée. The convoy was ambushed and the daughter taken by the pirates; their leader had demanded ransom or he will turn the hostages over to his scum."

"Why are they provoking us sir? Surely they know that we will not fall for that?"

Saul actually smiled a little, "A man after my own mind. Unfortunately, we can't do that Lieutenant. The fiancée and the father have conspired to block the Commodore's attempts to do just that. What we must do is dance to their tune, damn them." Carth was unsure whether Saul was referring to the family or the deserters, he suspected the former.

"What happens if they simply take the money and demand more sir?"

"Obvious isn't it? I tried to get that into their heads but they would not listen. Therefore, we are sending someone expendable to bargain with them."

Carth knew where this was heading almost by instinct. "How much is the ransom sir?" he asked in a vain hope of avoiding his fate.

"Forty thousand credits," Saul said in disapproval. It was the equivalent of four regular annual incomes to a skilled man in the core worlds.

"A tidy sum sir," Carth said.

"Yes," Saul said with a mixture of disapproval and slight amusement. The sum was nothing to him or his family. "As I was saying, we need somebody who cannot be held for another ransom. In short we need somebody junior enough not to be too important, senior enough to negotiate and not influential so they will not be missed."

Carth knew was coming but he was not going to make it easy for the Captain. "You have somebody in mind?"

Saul chuckled mirthlessly, "You might say that Lieutenant. You will be a volunteer. That is an order. You will handle the transfer of the money, and, because they will try to trick us, you will be there. Since I figure that we shall have to storm the damn place eventually, you will reconnoitrer the place and let us know the ins and outs of it. Am I understood?"

"Completely sir. Where is this place?"

"Palador Sector, not far away. Take a good ship and go there, but don't hang around."

"It sounds like you want this to fail sir," Carth said, guessing the motives behind sending a soldier and not a diplomat.

"Of course I want it to fail!" Saul said fiercely. "They are scum and deserters and every one of them deserves a firing squad. We have to show we listen though; show these stupid politicians that we listen to them. Keep your eyes open, we might need to crack this nut, so tell me how. Just ignore their taunts, promise yourself that you will get revenge. If they are stupid, they will give up the hostages and we can shatter the whole nest."

"I will do my best sir," Carth said, happy to have a mission.

"There is a last complication though," Saul warned. "The Chancellor and the father have made more trouble for us. You will not be alone, you will have a companion. You shall see." Saul ignored his Lieutenant's confusion and activated a com on the desk. "Commander, send in Major Faltern would you?"

Before Carth could ask about this strange turn, the door opened. A man who neither looked like a soldier or was dressed like one entered the room. He wore a black informal suit of clothes and carried a glass of something in one hand. Carth had seen many soldiers in his career but this man looked to be the most unsuitable he had ever seen. From his overweight bulk to his pale face and petulant expression, he was a misfit of a soldier, a man who had bought his rank. If it was possible, Saul's face hardened, his manner colder as he introduced the man.

"Lieutenant Onasi, this is Major Faltern. He is the man chosen to represent the Yulara family in this matter."

The Major sniffed as though the Lieutenant was already irritating him. He looked to Captain Karath, "Has he been apprised of the delicate nature of the situation?"

"He has indeed Major." Saul used the rank to remind the man of his place but he was ignored.

"Now listen to me," Faltern turned back to Carth, "we do things my way. Am I understood? You are just there to protect me."

Carth has not thought it possible, but he had found a man he disliked more than the Count of Mouirs. The Lieutenant put his hands behind his back, bleeding off his irritation to stop him hitting the man.

"Well? Am I understood man?" the Major pressed.

Saul was offering no encouragement so Carth nodded. "Yes sir. Understood sir," he said sullenly.

"Good, now, we leave in four hours. I am having the ransom transferred to the ship now, I will call to tell you where it is when I get there."

Carth bristled at the implied implication that he would make off with the credits. Fortunately, Saul cut in. "Lieutenant Onasi is quite reliable in this regard. If he ever thought of doing such a thing, I would gut him myself."

Faltern winced at the crudity of the suggestion, expressing his dislike of both soldiers by the arrogant gaze he gave them.

"Very well, but I shall expect your compliance Lieutenant," he snapped and walked out of the room.

"Well you have your orders Lieutenant," Saul said when the door had slid closed. "The real test is whether you can keep yourself from leaving him there. You will bring him back unharmed, that is an order."

"Yes sir," Carth said, mildly disappointed.

"Good, now look at the map." Saul froze the holo-map so both men faced a particular point. It showed a high plateau with a sharply steep hill leading into a forested valley. What seemed to be swamps surrounded the hill which was crowned with a large building. It was really a set of four buildings joined by curtain walls and breached by gates. There was a small docking bay, a barracks like structure, a long living area and a tall watchtower. The tower had a great view over the surrounding terrain, approaching up the hill from east, west or south would be futile.

"That is the objective. It's the old Republic trade base belonging to Galcorp. They fortified it and decked it out in the style of forty years ago. It will be a hard nut to crack as they almost certainly have air defences."

"How recent is the map sir?" Carth asked, looking hard at the building.

"Survey images from twenty seven years ago, the last one before Galcorp pulled back from there. We don't know much about it now though."

"Can I have a copy of the map sir?"

Saul nodded vaguely, "Yes, yes. I'll have my ADC give it to you. Now get going Lieutenant and make sure you know what you are doing."

"I will not fail sir," Carth said determinedly. Saul was already walking away, his stern face showing nothing.

The second part will come soon, I assure you.

LV


	6. Chapter 4b

_Reviews! Many nice reviews to write about. Thank you all for your support and help. I do appreciate your words and do make an effort to read and review your own pieces in gratitude._

_Brynn – Well, I like long chapters. That is all there is too it. I have an aversion to people who write more chapters than they have thousands of words. So, I write big chapters like in a novel and chop it up from there. Thanks for the review though, it is appreciated._

_Snackfiend101 (2) – Yay! A signed review and an unsigned review! Now I know you care! Well, Carth and Saul are a little based on Discworld, but also on other things. Good work on picking it up. Yeah, there are a lot of female Revans, not that is bad, just interesting. Thanks for the review, and I hope to see your work very soon!_

_Ether-Fanfic – Yeah, I liked writing Saul as a contradiction. The dangers of the Dark Side are ever present! Glad you liked it and hope you enjoy this next section._

_Alice – I agree with you. My characters are basically the same as those historical figures in essence. All that changes is they have blasters and space ships in this. Such corruption, greed and petty hatreds are eternal and you are right. The Iliad is still relevant because what it says about human nature. Glad you are liking it and hoping that you will like this chapter._

_Prisoner – As you know, I like Saul. I hope that he continues to impress later on. Thanks for the beta-reading as usual._

_Now, on with the show._

_LV_

Chapter 4b

"The deserters sure picked a planet in the middle of nowhere," Carth grumbled as the transport cut in its sub-light engines. The green and blue planet loomed in front of Carth, filling his view.

"Did you speak Lieutenant?" the petulant voice demanded.

"Just running through the coordinates again sir," Carth replied calmly.

"Well can't you be quieter? I am writing an important report here," he said, intimating Carth was worse than a buzzing insect.

"Of course sir," Carth said respectfully. "And sod you too, you bastard," he muttered to himself. It had been the worst space flight Carth had experienced in his relatively short career. The Major's arrogance was imbued in every word he spoke, in short, he despised Carth. Or he would have despised him if he thought the Lieutenant was worth the effort, as it was, he ignored him. Carth felt for his service blaster at his side, running his hand over its reassuring bulk. The ship was small enough without having to contain the Major's personal effects. He had insisted, demanded even that three large cases of electronic equipment and machinery be brought on board. Faltern had rebuffed Carth's attempt to find out about the cargo. The Lieutenant had just tried to avoid speaking to the man after that, an act the Major was happy to oblige with.

"We're coming into land sir, you might want to hold on."

"Planning on crashing are you? I thought you went to the Academy?" he demanded.

Carth was saved the need to answer by the communicator buzzing softly.

"This is Lieutenant Carth Onasi. We are seeking permission to land to negotiate with your leader."

"You colonial fool!" Faltern hissed and snatched the communicator away. "We have the ransom and seek terms with your leader." Carth reflected that he had said the exact same thing.

"You are cleared to land Republic scum. Head to coordinates one, six, five, silver, three."

Carth snatched the communicator back from the Major who clearly had no clue what to do. "Understood, we will do as asked."

"It was not a request," the hostile voice on the other end snarled and closed the channel.

"What did you think you were doing Lieutenant? I am in charge here, I am the diplomat and you will follow my lead."

"Yes sir," Carth said calmly.

"Now take us down, what are you waiting for?"

"Waiting for our escort to arrive."

"What escort?"

"The one the deserters are giving us now, sir."

"Well carry on then," Faltern snapped.

Carth sighed and broke into the atmosphere of the planet.

Before him was a wide patchwork of thick forest and dank swamp which stretched from horizon to horizon. The atmosphere sensors told Carth that the air was slightly more oxygen rich than normal, but otherwise ideal for breathing. Carth was coming up to the base from the north, directly towards the hanger. All around, the rebels had blasted the trees from the hill slope to give them a clear field of fire. The watchtower and strong points were thick with air defences; enough to stop any small scale attack. Carth was piloting by instinct, something that was hard to do as he had rarely landed such a ship like this before. The building seemed similar to the picture he had been shown despite some crumbling of the walls and some extra growth by the walls. A wide, flat space had been formed by blasting away part of the forest to the south. On this area was a wide collection of fighters and transports from Sith interceptors to Republic bombers, all old and outdated ships that the mutineers had commandeered.

Carth slowed and finally lowered his ship carefully into the open topped bay, coming in to land smoothly on the stone floor. Carth took a moment to look at his map before he went outside; the dock was the one exception to the otherwise rectangular building. The hanger formed a semi-circular bulge away from the otherwise clean and straight sides. On its longest side, the building was one hundred yards long, on the shortest, about sixty. It was a large building indeed, large enough to hold a division by the looks of it. Other than that, it was built like a fortress, high walls and only three small gates.

Carth stood, nervous but determined to show it to neither the Major or the enemy when he met them. Ignoring the Major, Carth released the door at the back of the shuttle, picking up the case with the credits in it.

"Lieutenant, stop. I am in charge, I will go first and I alone will talk with them."

"As you say sir," Carth said with false calm. If it were not for Saul's order, Carth would have left the bastard here.

Carth walked down the ramp, not knowing what he would face, he soon found out.

Men, at least two score of them were staring at him resentfully as he stepped out into the partially covered hanger. Carth showed nothing at the sight of the thugs, all dressed in mockeries of uniforms or armour as they waited. Obviously they were waiting for an order to kill these intruders; and they seemed very capable of that. They bore a bewildering variety of weapons from blasters and grenades to home made edged weapons. Major Faltern seemed overawed by the scoundrels and their menacing appearance, he stammered something. Carth sighed and strode forward; the traitors were all around him and they did not move aside. Carth stopped short of the exit from the bay, a dozen meaty men waited for him with a fearsome collection of glaives pointed at him. Carth had no idea what to do now as the men started to close in, their faces showing a sort of cruel anticipation.

One voice stopped them though, "Is that any way to treat our guests? Down boys, down," a throaty voice commanded.

The men parted reluctantly, revealing a short and broad man, balding and wearing an old Republic sergeant's uniform.

"Welcome, Lieutenant. Welcome to the home of the lost and the damned," His voice was conversational, almost friendly.

"They are only lost and damned by their own choices," Carth said stiffly.

"Lieutenant," Faltern growled.

"And I am sure you have never had to chose between death and desertion," the former Sergeant said calmly. His eyes though were dark and pitiless, he knew what would happen if he was caught.

"We are here to negotiate the release of the hostages. Might we know who we are talking to?"

"You might, Ex-Sergeant Tomias Lethbone. Formerly of the Eighteenth Pioneer Battalion, Seventh Corps."

"I thought they were wiped out?" Carth could not resist the question.

"You see? There are other reasons why men are here Lieutenant. As for the prisoners? Come this way if you please."

Carth took the suggestion as an order and followed the shorter man out into the main area of the base. Before Carth, on the south wall was the long living areas, kitchens and guard posts. To his right, on the west wall was the tall barracks and presumable, armoury. Lastly, to his left on the east wall was the tall watchtower where guards could be clearly seen.

"Miran, see to their ship will you?" Tomias ordered, a bulky man nodded and set off. As he past Carth, he offered the slightest wink before moving on. Carth had no time to ponder the meaning because Tomias had turned back to him.

"You have the money I assume?" he asked civilly.

"Of course," Faltern said, snatching the case and offering it up.

Tomias did not take it but nodded to two of his men who took it and opened it. The scores of small chips sat inside, the leader of the pirates nodded. "Count it," he ordered.

As his men set to work, the former Sergeant looked up, ignoring the Major and speaking to Carth.

"We have eight women in our possession and three men."

"There was a fourth man," Faltern commented.

"He made a nuisance of himself, although, they have been much more tame since then."

"So can we see them?" Carth asked, cutting the Major off before his indignant words got out of hand.

"You can see one of them, yes."

"And then?" Faltern asked.

Tomias chuckled, "what do you mean?"

"The ransom was for the release of all hostages," Carth said flatly.

Now the Ex-Sergeant was really amused, "Do you take me as a fool? As soon as I let them go, your little men will come down here and try to tear us apart. No, I've decided I like having them around, it makes me all cosy with the gentry here. But what you've done is buy their safety, their modesty in some cases. Of course, I will need more money, if I decide this has increased in value. My men are pretty eager to get to know them, see? You go back to her father and tell him we want the same every standard week or else he gets sent pieces of her. A finger a day until he pays up, then we move on lower, get me?"

Carth stared at the man's twisted smile with utter loathing. Right now, he hated this cowardly betrayer, his hands itched to simply shoot him down and end the menace, but he held back.

"This is an outrage, we had a deal," Faltern snapped.

"Do not lecture me about false promises! I was promised my men would be supported, what happened? We were expendable, so my men died alone whilst the glory seeking officers ran off to their smoking room." The voice was twisted with hate, his eyes black with fury.

In reality, Carth could not blame him, the Eighteenth Pioneers had been left to die in the border skirmishes with the Sith three years before. In order to safeguard the peace between nations, the Republic had left their own pioneers to die and retreated. Few knew of it for the peace had been maintained, it seemed however, that one man had escaped and sought vengeance.

"You will have your money, I will deliver your reward personally," Carth said. His implied promise of revenge went unnoticed by all others.

"Make sure you do."

"Can we see one of them, I want proof you are not bluffing," Carth said.

The former Republic soldier sneered, "Sure thing soldier boy. Bring one of them out!" he shouted.

Immediately there was activity as men ran to follow their chief's orders. Carth could not see where they were going to, as was their purpose in case he tried to coordinate a rescue. Carth waited, the nervous Major beside him as he stared at the fallen Sergeant. Then there was a series of jeers and catcalls and a commotion behind the leading rank of scum. Eventually, a harassed and humiliated woman was pushed forward in front of him. Her formally sophisticated clothing was dirty and torn and she looked tired and afraid. She could have only been twenty or so but at that moment she seemed much younger. Her captors had tied her hands behind her back and had a leash of rope around her neck Carth looked up from the brown eyes, long black hair and smooth skin, realising she was pretty indeed. He controlled himself, this was no time for daydreams.

"Are you unhurt?" Carth asked. The Major looked ill, forcing Carth to take over.

"Answer him girl," Tomias snapped.

"No, neither are the others. Up in the-"she began but was brutally cut off.

Tomias seized the leash and yanked her forward; without her hands to steady her, she fell.

Carth moved forward, ignoring the scum, leaning over her. He wondered if she had hurt herself so he leaned down to check her breathing. With her eyes still closed she whispered quickly to him.

"West barracks, third floor." She groaned theatrically as Carth helped her up, steading her with his hands on her shoulders. Carth gave no sign that he had heard from her, stepping back.

"Next time you try that, I'll give my men free time you understand?" Tomias asked angrily, seizing her jaw.

"Enough, we are going, I will be back within the week. We shall meet again," Carth said, diverting the man's anger away from the hostage.

"Go on then, get out of my sight. Get her back to her quarters, shows over!" he shouted as he stalked away.

Carth knew he had to give one last warning, it was his duty. "One last thing; you may think you are safe here but do not forget that vengeance is swift. All men here think well on this, leave within a week or your names shall be eternally cursed. The Admiral has promised men that return in this time do not face a firing squad."

Tomias laughed, "fool, if you attack then I will give her and all the others to my brave boys. All we need if five minutes. Does this mean that you do not intend to pay us?"

"I am merely saying that though we will pay you still, you are our enemy."

"How suave Lieutenant. Now go away before I add you to my collection."

Carth smiled to himself as the girl was dragged away, he had warned them, now he could plan his revenge.

Carth finally sighed in relief when he let the ship go into hyperspace. He had feared the ship would be tampered with but it appeared it hadn't. Major Faltern had not forgiven him still, muttering about ignorant subordinates as he rummaged among his things.

"What's this?" he asked after a half hour of relative piece.

"Sir?" Carth asked, turning towards the other man.

The Major held up a small datapad, "Found this in my pack. It's not mine."

"May I sir?" Carth asked, taking the tablet and activating it.

"What does it say?" the petulant voice interrupted his moment of peace.

"It says sir, 'the Black Eagle calls; the eye of fire grows. In five standard days, Tomias has ordered a feast. Come in by the dock, there will be no guards on the north western edge."

"It's a trap, it has to be. It was planted here to mislead us."

"No I don't think so," Carth said thoughtfully. "Captain Karath said he had a MICO man on the inside. If that was him then these first two lines are some type of code. I will have our people look at it."

"And by the way, I was not impressed by that last speech of yours. They could have killed her and us both."

"Now they have no reason to say they were not warned. When we come for them, we will take no prisoners."

"So you planned this all along Lieutenant?"

"The Captain anticipated this would happen. Because they were right, if they gave them up they were asking for our reprisal."

"So my commander has just lost forty thousand credits?"

"There is nowhere to spend it and he will not likely give it out. We will recover it later sir."

"I am going to take this higher, I am not impressed."

Carth bit back a scathing riposte just in time. He settled for, "Yes sir."

The Lieutenant sat back in his chair, and tried to focus on something else. However his mind was drawn back, ever back to the fortress on the hill. He hoped he would be there to take vengeance on the scum for what they had done. The thought of this vengeance overrode even his dislike for the Major as the ship flashed on, carrying his vital news to Saul Karath.

"Lieutenant Carth Onasi, as I live and breath," a pleasant voice hailed him as he waited outside Captain Karath's office. Carth had had his message and datapad relieved of him and told to be ready to give his statement to the Captain. He had waited four hours, then he had been summoned back to this anteroom outside the Captain's office. He had been there for over half an hour and was growing restless, but he knew that Saul was even more annoyed. He was talking to the Governor of Artanis, a stern and protective man who was obviously not approving of the measures proposed to rescue his daughter.

Carth turned to see a welcome, familiar face over the top of a Lieutenant Colonel of Engineer's uniform. Greves. The Colonel who had given him admittance into the Kuat Academy, the man who had fought beside him on Telos. A man he would have considered a friend if he had known him for longer. The older man was irregular, a mix of spymaster and engineer. Two professions that did not normally mix but here combined to work despite the opposite nature of the jobs.

"Colonel sir, pleased to see you."

"And you Lieutenant, and you. I knew that you would make it through. I see my faith in your abilities was not misplaced then."

"I tried to follow the example you set sir."

Greves nodded happily. He look pleased, older but pleased. His hair was greyer than it had been and the three years had evidently not been kind to him. Along his right jaw was a white scar, the Colonel saw his gaze and shrugged.

"Don't worry lad, just a piece of stone from a bridge I mined. The explosion was a little fiercer than I would have liked and a bit of stone caught me. Guess I won't make that mistake again eh?" He chuckled and held out his hand, "you're looking well."

"Yes sir," Carth knew the man was here for a reason other than to exchange pleasantries with him.

"So you're mixed up in this whole business with the hostages are you? I heard you went down there to see the scum."

"I did sir, a damn lot of them. And they got themselves a tidy fortress there."

"I daresay they do, my predecessor helped build it you see."

"So why are you here? I thought you were up near the Sith border still?"

The Colonel's lips pursed slightly, "that is something I cannot say. Let it just be said Carth that they needed a field engineer and subordinate for Saul Karath here. Since I am part of MICO and REFC, I can help oversee both parties." REFC was the Republic Engineering Field Corps whose members were attached to the naval and army formations on campaign.

"Is it permanent?" Carth asked, hoping it was.

"It is indeed Lieutenant, I cannot tell you much but I know one thing." He leaned closer and spoke conspiratorially. "Something is happening, out even beyond out here, out even beyond the Republic's borders. Mark my words, one day we will have to fight a war out here."

Carth nodded, he did not now the Colonel as well as he would have liked but he knew that the older man did not say things so dramatically if they were not true.

"I see sir, I won't press you further. So are you in this little gig?"

Again the slight compression of the lips, "perhaps, you understand the Captain Karath dislikes me. Well, he dislikes everyone but dislikes me in particular. Don't ask me why, I'm not sure I could answer. We shall just have to wait for the gallant Captain to see if I am invited to this party.

At that moment the door slid open to reveal a nervous looking subaltern who saluted cautiously.

"Colonel Greves, Lieutenant Onasi?"

"Yes Ensign," Greves said in his best imperious voice.

"Please follow me, the Captain will see you now," the man said and led them in.

Captain Saul Karath stood like a painted statue before them, his face was even more impassive than usual. He did not look especially pleased but it was hard to tell from the rigid face. Also in the room was the plump, annoying figure of Faltern, his bulging uniform gross beside Saul Karath's rail thin body. The man gave Carth and Greves a sour look as they entered the room, his bulbous eyes red.

"Now we are all here gentlemen," Saul spoke like he was once more addressing cadets at the Academy. "I have just been in contact for the last five hours with various people to try and resolve this current situation. Finally we have a solution to the problem, now we just make it happen."

Faltern glared resentfully at the Naval Captain, it was clear he did not approve of what was going to happen.

"For once," Saul invested his words with a deep irony, "I have agreed with the good Governor. And Commodore Moreau agrees with my solution even if Major Faltern does not."

"I am just saying Captain that-"he was cut off briskly.

"You objection is noted and discarded Major. We cannot pander to this scum, we must show our strength. If we pay them off then every two-bit mercenary will think he can humble us. No, we must take action and time is of the essence. Lieutenant Onasi?"

"Sir," Carth said, standing to attention.

"You visited this den of inequity, what did you observe?"

Carth knew this was not a time for bravado or patriotism. "It is a large building sir with five foot thick walls. It is a large place which can house probably a division of troops if they were squeezed in. It has many anti-air defences studded over the walls and has an airfield where there are many fighters belonging to the scum. You have seen the holo-map, it has four buildings, all of which could be made into fortresses if given any amount of time."

"You see Captain, an attack would suicidal," Faltern put in smugly.

"And you were suggesting what exactly, Major? Saul asked icily. "How many of them are there would you say Lieutenant?"

"Hard to judge sir, not all of them were in sight and it is a large building. I estimate at least two thousand or perhaps more. I would not bank a guess sir but judging by the number of ships and the like there could be up to three thousand men there all up."

"Armed?"

"A mixture sir, some have their military weapons whilst some have hand made devices. Either way, they're dug in pretty deep."

"Thank you Lieutenant. Colonel?" Saul moved to Greves, his voice mocking.

"As we know, my predecessor helped construct this type of defence so I know a few things about them. The hanger, the one attached to the structure is the weakest part. From there, there is a service tunnel that leads to the power generator. If the generators were to be disabled, the defence guns could not fire, a force would then be brought to the very gates easily."

Saul actually seemed pleased despite his dislike of the Colonel. "Excellent, I see we have two preliminary objectives. We must disable the defences and secure the hostages, then we must surround, destroy and capture this band of scum. We must do it quickly, before they have a chance to take vengeance on the prisoners." Saul's face betrayed he did not care about the captives but he was bound by political considerations."

"And what of the intelligence that Lieutenant Onasi acquired?" Colonel Greves said, showing he knew more about the situation than he let on.

Saul nodded, "the third floor of the barracks rooms. If that is what she said then we must run with that. Was she one of the real hostages?"

"She was. Her name is Morgana Tal'vin, aide to the Governess." Major Faltern put in sullenly; it was not clear what he had proposed instead but it had clearly been rejected.

"And the datapad received appears to be a genuine one from our man on the inside. The code words were right and the information makes sense. If what Colonel Greves says applies here then if we infiltrate the wall near the hanger we will be close to both objectives." Saul's voice had not changed though his eyes seemed to be more alight with the prospect of battle.

"And who Captain do we have to lead the assault?" Greves asked.

Saul pressed a button on his desk. "Send in the General," he ordered briskly.

The door opened to reveal a tall man with the gold star and green uniform of a brigadier general. He had three medals pinned to the left side of his chest; the Silver and Bronze Stars and the Defence of Corellia Star.

"This is Brigadier General Henri Let're, commander of the Second Assault Brigade, Third Corps." Saul's tone did not change but he clearly respected, but disliked the man.

"Gentlemen," the man said, shifting his blue eyes between the officers. He had short brown hair that he pushed aside as he took off his cap. "It is good to finally see some action. I have been appraised of the situation and am glad to assist. My men will do what they can to help."

The General did not look at Carth or the Major, just at Saul. Carth realised that the Captain should be calling him sir but he saw no inclination to obey. Whilst they were equal in rank, Let're had seniority over the Naval Captain.

"What men do we have available sir?" Greves asked in an effort to get things moving again.

"At the moment, my men are spread between here and Hutt space on various missions. I'll only have a demi-brigade to help unfortunately."

"Fifteen hundred men? Will that be enough?" Greves asked.

"It will have to be," Saul commented dryly. "The next closest regular army troops that are ready to fight is three sectors away, we shall use what we have."

"Don't worry yourself Colonel, my men will do the job. Now you just have to ensure that the defences are out of action."

Saul turned to Carth who felt the usual mixture of pleasure and fear when he knew he was being volunteered for a mission. "Lieutenant Onasi, because of your first-hand knowledge of the layout of the installation and your previous experience, you will be going. Furthermore you will be part of Colonel Greve's party as he tries to perform his mission. You will have twenty men, the best that can be spared from the General's demi-brigade. You, Lieutenant will seek out the prisoners; one of them knows you by sight and will support your claim. Colonel Greves, because of your knowledge of such devices and the fact you have seen many of these places before; you will disable the power. Once both of this is done, the attack will begin."

"How are my men to get over the walls?" Let're asked stiffly.

"Simple sir, the gates are controlled through the power grid, if I shut down the power when they are opened, they cannot easily be closed. Your men can attack at will with air support." Greves had spoken very calmly to the General.

"I see," Let're said with a nod. "Very well, I will send my men to distract them at this airfield of theirs whilst the bulk of the demi-brigade moves in to attack."

Saul nodded, bringing the discussion to a halt. "Very well. You said in your report Major that the Lieutenant gave them a week to surrender?"

"I did sir, and?" Carth asked.

Saul smiled at Carth, a thin and unpleasant smile. "We will show them the justice of the Republic, go break your promise, kill them early. Take no prisoners unless the battle is over. They go to the firing squad as pirates or deserters so save the commissariat the effort."

The four men exchanged salutes, then moved to take their places.

The sounds of revelry were clearly audible, even at the base of the rocky slope.

"Sounds like he was right," Carth whispered to Greves.

A single tap on the shoulder was the response as the score of men slowly slithered up the hill. All wore night vision goggles with targeting servos built into their pistols' sights. It was at least fifty yards to the base of the wall, at this speed that would be at least half hour. Carth and Greves had scanned the hill for an hour before beginning this climb, they could see no defences. They had scanned for laser detection facilities, minefields and traps but found nothing. This was not meant to be a fortress after all, it was a trading post. Carth, his black clothes masking his features, pushed upwards. Somewhere in the shadows was the twenty men, all infiltrators from the Second Assault Brigade's vedettes. They moved like shadowy wisps of smoke up the hill, spread wide so they would not be seen bunched together. All the men including Greves wore camouflage light bending cloaks which mirrored the ground around them and hid them. Carth looked up but could see no guards on the walls, he hoped the information was correct or else they were all dead. The hostages would be too and Carth knew that this operation had to run smoothly and have no mistakes. If there were any men that could do it though, it was the men of the various Assault Brigades. Trained for at least five years and all veterans, the men were some of the best in the Republic. No, it was not they that Carth was worried about, it was himself, he hoped he would not fumble and cause everything to come crashing down. He had explained his fears to Greves on the way to Laq'orn.

The man had been understanding, "try not to think about it. Don't think, go with what is right. The men who fail are usually those who have doubt. Show no doubt and you have a greater chance of success." It did not make Carth feel much better. He winced as a sharp rock dug into his side, pushed it aside and crawled on.

After what seemed like hours but was more like minutes, Carth was at the wall's foot. He had heard and seen nothing of people on the walls above, just the noise of people partying. Occasionally random blaster shots or screams would sound but after the first few, Carth ignored them and looked to Greves.

The Colonel nodded his assent, he had kept up for he was fit despite his years. The leader of the infiltrators appeared from the shadows by the two men. He whispered even though nothing would be heard over the din of the deserters.

"We are in position Colonel, begin?"

"Go, Squad One goes with Lieutenant Onasi, the rest with me."

There was no answer but the shadowy figures swiftly began to scale the walls. Three grapnels were fired, caught just below the parapet and stuck there. Carth and Greves scaled the wall next.

There were no guards, just a deserter who had had the misfortune to be near where the masked men crossed. His throat was cut open back to the bone, the blood pooling on the ground. Then there was a gasp of alarm; a man was staring at them. He wore a tattered Republic uniform, he knew what he was seeing. He was just about to shout a warning when a dart severed his windpipe. Although not as lethal as a blaster, the darts were silent, the man fell dead. Carth crouched down in the shadow of the hanger, out of the lights and looked to Greves.

"Good luck Colonel," he whispered.

"You too Lieutenant," Greves replied, then was gone, followed by half the shadows.

Gaston Greves tried to conceal his nervousness as he followed the shadowy assassins down the stairs to the hanger floor. He approached the door at the bottom of the stairs and made to open it but a hand held him back.

"There is another way?" a voice hissed as a question.

Greves knelt and took out his blueprint map of the building, focussing on where he was, he could see there was another way. By the position of it on the map it should have been right above him, then he saw it. A ventilation shaft directly above him that led to the target. He pointed up and instantly, the men sprang into action. A line was shot up and Greves found himself manoeuvred into the vent. The men were following whilst the rest were waiting for the signal to add to the confusion.

The Colonel grunted as he forced himself along, he might be fit but he was still not a young man any more. He was Saul's age, engineers were promoted much slower than the rest of the army because they could not buy their promotions. It had to come through merit. He put aside his complaints and moved along until there was another vent below him. Greves looked through, listening but could see nobody in the room below. He punched the vent out so it clattered to the floor. There was no alternative but to jump and the Colonel jarred his ankle painfully as he sprawled on the ground. The three men followed with a little more grace, covering the doors in the room.

The Colonel looked out the view window and saw the power generator. It was ten feel tall, shaped like a cylinder and crackled with power. To go into that room would be suicide so Greves had to do the best he could. He knelt and pulled off a circuit cover, exposing a mess of wires to the light of the room. To a normal man, the mass would be impossible to understand, but Greves knew his business. This was not the first time he had either installed or sabotaged a generator like this so he set to work. After a few minutes he straightened up and pushed a switch on the console. There was a flashing light and the image of the gates opening played across the screen.

Greves was about to signal for the assault to begin when he heard running footsteps. The door burst open and three confused men faced them. Evidently they had noticed something happening and had come to find out. Greves hoped the enemy were not now fully alert but now he had these men to worry about. Or rather he would have, had not the commandos cut two down with knives and the last with a dart through the eye.

"Secure the doorway. Sir, shall we tell the General?" the man just concealed the order as a question.

Greves nodded, walked to the control panel and slammed the emergency shut down control. The room flickered and went dark, the emergency power just illuminating the ground. Greves took a grenade, opened the door to the reactor and flicked it to activate on a five second timer.

"Maul Raven six, this is Greves. Code Raven Green. Begin assault."

"Understood Crimson, we are underway."

Greves smiled and hurled the grenade towards the reactor.

Carth moved as quickly as possible. He and the men had scaled the roof upon reaching the barracks as the doors were sure to be guarded. The men flittered across the shadows like phantoms, not seen by a single man. In the five minutes since he had parted from Greves he had not stopped, pressing on with hurried speed. Now they reached a trap door to the roof, guarded by a bored sentry. The men took their positions and fired at a signal; the man fell pierced by six darts, his cry lost to the night air. Carth was the first to the trapdoor and drew his pistol; the men followed suit. Now they had need of stopping power not stealth and they needed to move swiftly. Already time was slipping away, they had to get to the prisoners before the attack or else they would be dead. Carth hauled the trapdoor up and looked down. He heard a grating noise and turned in horror to see the gates opening, panic hit his brain, there was no time. He looked to the men and slid down the narrow ladder into the room below. He had no way of telling which way was the right way so he lead half the men south and sent the others north. Carth hurried along the passage, the noise of men talking was everywhere and he sprinted ahead. There was a rumbling sound and the lights died, the power had been cut off. Carth heard loud voices of confusion as he switched back to his low light vision goggles. He saw a patch of light about five yards away and headed for it, gun ready. The cells must have had an independent power source to stop prisoners escaping. As he approached this source of light he heard a scream, a woman's scream, then it was cut off suddenly. Carth felt his hate bubble over, he followed the noise until he came to what looked like the holding facility of the old Republic facility. He held his gun up and shot the door's lock twice, kicked the door open and ducked.

Inside the lighted room was a cell block against each wall to left and right. At the far end was a cell set apart from the others, it was from there that the scream had come from. Three hostiles were in the room, they turned and fired but Carth had thrown himself forward. Coming up to his knees he fired two shots at the first man. His aim was bad and only grazed the man's arm, reflecting off the cell's force-fields. The enemy returned fire, hitting one of the commandos whilst a shot came close to Carth. The Lieutenant took time, aimed and fired, the blaster bolt hit the original target in the face, shattering it apart into blood and bone. The commandos opened up on the second and third man, hitting one of them. Carth could see the last man reaching for a control that was likely a kill switch for the prisoner. Carth fired, hitting the man in the temple and dropping him like a discarded marionette.

"See to the entrance, bolt it. Look after the wounded," Carth ordered. He had done it, he had won.

The prisoners looked at him fearfully, likely they had never seen men killed before. Carth was tired but he walked along the cells.

"I'm Lieutenant Carth Onasi. Is anybody hurt?" he asked.

All eyes turned to the lone prisoner in the cell. It was a punishment cage, Carth realised, that was why she had screamed.

It was the woman he had talked to the last time he had been here. Morgana Tal'vin, the aide to the governess. As one of the commandos deactivated the other cells and helped the prisoners out, Carth studied the control panel. It had been set to a painfully high level, he would be surprised if the woman was still conscious. He hoped he knew what he was doing as he reached a hand out and pressed the release button. The bands around her arms, legs and torso released; with nothing to hold her, he slowly toppled forward.

He just managed to catch her as she fell forward onto him; he laid her down gently and assessed her injuries. She was wearing very little, obviously made so to humiliate her. Her thin tunic and trousers were soaked with sweat and her breathing was ragged. On several places across her body were burn marks from the electrical pulses used to torture her.

Another woman came over, about the same age, she sighed quietly. "Poor Morgana. They got bored and wanted a show, she refused."

Carth was about to say something but then the whole building shook from a massive explosion. The explosion came from outside the walls; nemesis had come.

Perhaps twenty minutes had passed from when Carth had crossed the wall.

The airfield was shattered, now the air defences were off, the Republic assault fighters could begin their assault. Diving low, the atmospheric fighters opened fire with blasters and rockets, the projectiles wrecking havoc amongst the tight packed machines.

By luck or design, one missile struck the hatch leading to an underground weapons storage post. The resulting explosion atomised the ground above it and shook the ground for a mile in every direction as the trees and man made terrain around it was torn apart. The strike fighters, pleased with the destruction, flew back to their assault ship that had landed just a few miles away.

The infantry, three battalions of prime infantry stormed the three gates. The soldiers wore the dark green of the infantry with red sashes around the waist and red facings on their shoulder. Even thought they were open, the gates were still defended and the advance parties took heavy fire from the defenders. It was pitch black still and few of the deserters had light enhancing devices, relying on lights that no longer functioned without power. Only to the south where the flickering lights of the burning airfield illuminated the charging figures were the defenders able to effectively fight back. Elsewhere though, the Republic infantry scaled the walls or charged through the gates. Men staggered out of doorways, in no condition to fight; many were cut down before they realised what was happening. The Republic infantry wore light armour designed to absorb shrapnel as well as dissipate blaster bolts; worn over their uniforms. In their hands they carried infantry rifles and grenades.

Against this well equipped force, the deserters had only determination and a haphazard collection of non-standard weapons to fight with. To the east, the Republic troops broke through, isolating the tower and linking up with Greve's men in the hanger. With the hanger and east gates under their control, the colonel in charge of the battalion sent five companies of men to relieve the men to the south. These men outside the walls were unable to press forward as they were advancing towards the strongest enemy position. Heavy enemy fire made these men take cover among the rocks and stunted trees of the slope. On this area at least, the deserters were keeping up a steady fire, inflicting heavy losses on the Republic men. To the west, the Republic soldiers had ceased using rifles and closed in to close quarters with swords and grenades. Flushing the enemy out of the barracks' first floor, they pressed upwards. To the east, the watchtower still held, repulsing three attacks but elsewhere the Republic was driving forward. The relief forces from the east fell upon those defenders in the living quarters and cut down scores of them with grenades and anti-personal fire. Men: Sith, Republic or mercenary were scythed down by the score, no prisoners were taken and pleas for mercy were answered with blades and bolts. Finally, the men to the south could move into the gate, leaving the blackened and bloody ground behind them.

Carth's men were holding the doorway, just. The enemy had tried to get through the door three times, knowing that they were beaten but desperate to deny victory to the Republic. Carth was nearly out of ammunition, only ten more shots left before he would have to take from the wounded and dead. His commandos were scarcely better off, their weapons had long ago been discarded for want of ammunition and only the constant close quarters fighting had given them the supplies to keep fighting. More enemy came at the door and more enemy were added to the score of bodies at the entrance to the door. It was a high number because Carth's men had used heavy grenades to clear the passageway of enemy. Carth threw aside his pistol, he had three shots left but he wanted not to have to remember that. He drew a short blade and readied himself. A slender hand reached out and took the discarded pistol and pocketed it, the action going unnoticed in the smoke and noise of the battle.

Carth's men had held the corridor while the greater battle raged all around them, losing three of his men but succeeding in holding. He had been grazed three times by shots and blood flowed from his ear where a knife had nicked it. He had shot the man in the throat and was covered in the man's blood. There was a movement in the smoke, Carth knew who it was.

"Hold your fire!" he called to the last two men. One of his wounded was loading for him and handed him a pistol scrounged from the enemy dead.

"Lieutenant Onasi?" a voice called.

"Yes, who is it?"

"Captain Forrest; second battalion, First Regiment," the man answered. He stepped out of the smoke, no weapon in his hand.

"Good to see you sir, we have the hostages safe."

"I'll have them escorted out, well done Lieutenant.

"Thank you sir."

Carth went inside the prison, the former hostages were huddled together, out of the line of sight of the door. All except one, Morgana was on her feet, he was stunned she had recovered so quickly. Any normal person would be still recovering from the amount of electricity that had coursed through her body in the torture cage.

"How are you?" he asked.

She smiled, "thanks to you I am fine...Lieutenant?" It was clear she did not know insignias.

He nodded, "Lieutenant Carth Onasi ma'am. We have to get you out of here." He offered her his hand, she took it, her big eyes looking into his. She smiled a little shyly as they stood.

"Lead the way Lieutenant," she said in her soft voice.

Carth was just walking outside the room when he saw him. The noise of battle had been dying but now it suddenly burst into life again. In the corridor his men had fought so hard to defend, there was a rattle of fire, the bolts cutting into the Republic soldiers. Three fell whilst the others returned fire; the enemy were to the south of him. The Republic infantry returned their fire, calling in for backup to crush this flaring nest of resistance.

"Get the prisoners out of here-"Carth yelled, then stopped.

Former Sergeant Tomias Lethbone was behind his men, hiding from the fire. As the defences collapsed, Carth drew his new pistol and charged forward. Shots flew thick but the enemy was frightened and unsteady; Carth fired a hail of shots as he charged. His bolts had no effect but the men stepped back before him and the sight of the Republic soldiers coming for them. Carth was just in time to see Tomias disappear into a side room. Instead of following the retreating enemy, he kicked the door open and followed him. The Republic soldiers saw him go but did not follow, they had the rest of the enemy to chase down.

Carth found himself in a storage room which had a small ladder to the roof. Carth held his pistol in one hand and clambered up the rungs. As he opened out onto the dawning day's light, the leader of the rebels struck.

He came from behind Carth, as the soldier turned with the gun raised the big man hit him. Tomias was short but he was a strong man, hardened by years in the engineers and now fuelled by anger and rage. He had not expected someone to follow so had not unsheathed the knife had at his side. The fist blow stunned the Lieutenant, smacking into the side of his jaw and making him stagger. Tomias kicked the trap door shut and moved across it to attack. A heavy blow on Carth's upper arm forced him to drop the gun and his foe moved to take advantage. Three rapid blows to the chest made Carth reel backwards, falling against a ventilation fan outlet. Tomias swung a right fist at the soldier but Carth had recovered his wits, he caught the fist and kicked the man in the stomach, pushing him back. Tomias came back, unsheathing a vibroknife as he did so, the slice was only just avoided; even so it still cut the Lieutenant from his right side up to his left shoulder. Tomias stabbed down, hoping to run the blade into Carth's heart. There was a fierce tussle before Carth hit the man in the eye with his fist. The knife clattered away but before the soldier could recover, the ex-Sergeant headbutted Carth.

As the soldier fell back against the casing, the short man drew a small hold-out pistol and raised it. He smirked.

A shot echoed across the roof and there was the sound of a body falling, then silence.

Finally the watchtower fell; it had taken six assaults and thirty dead and wounded Republic troops to do but it was cleared. The banner of the Republic hung over the battlefield, a testament of the victory won by courage and intrigue. The Republic soldiers cheered from the courtyards and the square. All over the building, the enemy was finally rooted out and destroyed, the skulkers were shot down and the occasional prisoner taken. Now, for the victory to be complete, the commander had to view his conquest.

"Colonel Greves," an aide announced as General Henri Let're entered the smoking building. The wounded Republic troops were being carried back whilst the dead were being piled in the centre of the courtyard.

"Colonel, good to see you, it all went well I see?"

"Yes sir, the plan worked. What was the bill?"

Let're sighed, "about two hundred. Forty or fifty dead perhaps. Still, it could have been far worse."

"Any prisoners?" Greves asked. "And what about the hostages?"

"We have a few score of prisoners, they are being shipped back to the _Radiant_ now." The Radiant was the heavy cruiser that Saul had taken to Laq'orn as the command ship.

"As for the hostages, they are fine. One of them disappeared but she will no doubt turn up."

"And Lieutenant Onasi?" Greves asked.

"I saw him sir but he took off to sweep one of the other rooms," a Captain informed Greves.

"We've been trying to raise him on his communicator but have got no reply," a major put in.

"It would be a shame if he were to fall here," Greves said.

"That is what the parents and wives of every dead man here will say," Let're said dryly and turned away.

The bodies of the rebels lay everywhere, the flat sound of shots continued to occur as the wounded enemy were shot. Greves sighed, he had equipment to gather.

There was silence on the roof, the single shot seemed to have drawn all sound away from the space. The body slowly toppled over and was still.

Carth looked up, his gaze was still swimming from the massive blows he had taken. He saw a figure outlined against the rising sun, he shook his head to clear it. The figure moved forward, dropping its own weapon and hastened over towards the Lieutenant finally felt his balance go. He slithered down the fan casing to the spine of the sloping roof.

She was there, moving to crouch beside him. Morgana looked in concern at the soldier whose face was already swelling from a clout to his jaw. She saw blood running down his shirt from a cut and looked to see if it was dangerous. Her hands pushed the uniform aside, she sighed in relief. The cut had mostly been absorbed by the uniform and the thin armour he had worn.

"Morgana?" he asked in confusion.

"It's me Lieutenant," she said softly, holding his hand. She had been trained as a medic as part of her job and it did not take much to see that he would have concussion. Indeed, Morgana was surprised he was not unconscious already.

"You saved my life," he said in a puzzled tone.

"Just returning the favour," she said.

Carth nodded, "thank you."

Before she could do anything he slid sideways and sprawled bonelessly on the roof, quite unconscious. Morgana smiled and shook her head as she stood to hail a medic.


	7. Chapter 5a

_Reviews! Many reviews, and as always I am indebted to you for your words._

_Alice – Yes, we will be seeing more of Faltern, and others like him. I can relate to your story you told me better than you might imagine. But that is a tale for another time._

_Rank: yes, a Naval Captain is equal to a full Colonel. Saul however, as you can tell, did not like the General, so he didn't salute him. And who is going to argue with the son-in-law of the Commander in Chief?_

_Mistake: Yeah, I make a few now and then. I suppose that I can't get everything right. Thanks for pointing them out though, I will be on the look out in the future._

_Well, now that you mention it, those characters are deliberately so. Hmm._

_A gold sovereign to you if you can tell me what book that last story was based on._

_Ether-fanfic – I know, I like Saul too. He will get plenty to do eventually. Yes, poor Carth! Hope you like this._

_Tinuviel__ Undomiel – Thank you. Six reviews at once? I am indebted to you…enthusiasm. I hope you continue reading._

**Now folks. I have never actually wrote anything like this before. Please comment on how it went.**

**On with the show!**

**LV**

Chapter 5 (K-14)

Lieutenant Carth Onasi opened his eyes. At first he saw nothing, there was darkness all around through which his sight could not pierce. As his conscious mind slowly came back to him, he became aware of the pain. It was something he could have done without; a deep throbbing pain in his temples and side. He coughed and tried to haul himself upright; about half way the sudden movement dizzied him. To counter it, he laid his head back down. He was lying on a soft bed, he was thankful of that at least, he had half expected a wooden board on the ground in some hospital.

Then there was light, what seemed like a searing supernova appeared above his head. He winced and made a irritated grunt as he tried to adjust his eyes to the sudden appearance.

"Keep still, you will still be a little disoriented," a soft, feminine voice spoke from beside him.

Carth rolled over, conscious he was wearing his under tunic and light trousers. It was Morgana, she smiled at him and held out a hand.

He took it awkwardly and helped himself to sit. The rush of blood almost made him falter but he managed to control it, he looked at his surroundings.

It was a small room, a ship's cabin he realised from the distinctive construction methods on the wall. Carth saw it was just large enough to accommodate two people but only one bed. Morgana had slept on the small divan off to one side. Shaking his head, the Lieutenant wondered why he was in the lady's bedroom and not in a hospital.

She seemed to catch his thoughts, "they said that you were not hurt enough to warrant a place in the med-unit. They were just going to leave you in your room so I volunteered to take you in."

Carth smiled, "thank you, it seems you have saved me twice. I owe you one."

She brushed it off, "if you had not come when you did, I would have been dead, so would the others." She saw him wince and hold his jaw which was still slightly swollen. "He hit you hard, the medic said you had some bruising on the tissue but nothing broken. It just needed some ice and a salve to lessen the reaction."

Carth blushed slightly, he had never actually talked with a woman in such a way. Especially since he was in the woman's bedchamber, he smiled slightly. "Then thank you, nurse."

Morgana chuckled, "I thought you would appreciate having some company."

"So, where are we? How did the battle go?"

"You are on your command ship again, you've been out for about a day. From what I hear, and they do not tell me much, it was a success. A man was in before, said he wanted to talk to you when you woke up. Colonel someone," she evidently could not remember the name.

"Greves?" Carth guessed.

"That's him, said this happened to you the last time you were in a fight too."

Carth coughed slightly again, remembering his time unconscious on Telos. He hoped it did not become a pattern.

"I will talk to him after I get up."

Carth noticed there was something about Morgana that was different. He had seen her only twice but she seemed more distant that he would have thought. It was like something was troubling her.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked in concern. It sounded a little gruff for his liking and he cursed his lack of knowledge in such fields.

Morgana did not answer and then he saw why. She was wearing concealing, formal clothes but looked uncomfortable with it. It was warm in the cabin but she still wore gloves, trousers and jacket, she was also sweating from the warmth.

Carth did not know how to address this so he moved to it in a roundabout way. "They made it hot enough in here didn't they?"

"I suppose the Commodore likes it warm," she added blandly.

"But you don't?" Carth pressed for the advantage.

She hung her head slightly. To Carth's inexperienced eyes, she seemed very sad about something, he stammered to say something but she held up a gloved hand.

"Please Lieutenant, not now."

"What is wrong? Morgana, tell me," he said with as much empathy as he could muster.

Now she seemed very sad as she held out her left hand to him, the black leather glinting in the light. "Take it off," she almost whispered to him.

Puzzled, Carth reached out and peeled the tight leather off her hand and laid it beside him. Then he saw why she was sad; there was an ugly scar on the top of her hand. It was almost perfectly circular, ragged around the edges but deep and red. It would scar, probably forever and Carth could see her distress. They were the marks from the torturer's electrical pulses and Carth did not have to be a genius to see that this was why she had covered herself so completely.

She must have mistook his pitying look for disgust as she pulled back her hand roughly. "So now you know," she said very clearly. "I talked with the doctor, he tells me there is nothing they can do about them. It's all my fault," she said softly.

"Morgana, it is not your fault," Carth tried to be comforting.

"And how would you know?" she snapped. The woman was letting her frustration show against the soldier, ignoring any response he might have. "You do not need any help from me, I can see that. I will be back," she said and walked for the door.

"Morgana, wait. It does not mean anything to me," it was the wrong thing to say.

"Why? Because I don't mean anything to you? Just, be quiet and leave," she snapped and closed the door. Carth held his face in his hands, he never seemed to know the right thing to say to anyone.

"Lieutenant Onasi, twice victorious but twice unconscious. Keep going and you'll end up with your own medical team!" a cheerful voice hailed Carth. It had taken him about half hour to ready himself, he had deliberately slowed his progress in case Morgana returned but she hadn't. Now he wore his proper uniform, as he walked along the long passages of the _Intrepid_. He turned to see Colonel Greves holding out a welcoming hand.

Carth saluted and too the offered arm. "I'm glad to see you well Colonel. How did we go?"

"You are an omen of victory Carth, we scoured the bastards right out of existence." He sobered up from his exuberant mood, "though we lost a good few men."

"How many?"

"Two hundred and eight." He saw Carth's surprise, "men at the south gate. Two companies cut to pieces" he said bitterly. Lucky they didn't repeat that elsewhere or we might have been in trouble. I see you got the bastard leading them."

Carth nodded, "he had a point though. We did leave his men to die to keep the peace, he had a right to be angry."

"It is one thing to be angry Carth and quite another to become a bandit. I would have sympathised with him too, that whole affair was a mistake but becoming a freelancing mercenary over it is not the solution."

"You knew him sir?" Carth asked shrewdly.

Greves nodded, "aye, I was not there but a friend of mine was. They were butchered. Why are idiots made generals?" he asked rhetorically.

"You'll find that they are not all fools sir."

"So I've been told but I will reserve judgement until we have a real emergency."

Carth decided to move on, he had a question he wanted answered. "Why was I put with Morgana sir? Not that I am ungrateful you understand but why?" He knew for a fact that the surgeries on a ship this large could hold hundreds of men.

Greves smiled wistfully, "she requested it Carth. Indeed she did, said that you had saved her life so she would return the favour."

"She was the one who shot Tomias though sir," Carth said in confusion.

The Colonel's eyes widened slightly, "she never said that. Anyway, she resolved to look after you. Why, anything interesting happen?"

"Apart from inadvertently insulting her, no," Carth muttered.

Gaston Greves chuckled at the chastised younger man. "You will learn my boy that women are not like military operations. Nothing goes smoothly, it's like fighting blindfolded in quicksand. So what did you say?"

"I made a mistake and said I did not care about it, she thought I meant her."

"What is the it?" Greves asked.

Carth knew he had said something he shouldn't. No doubt she wanted it to remain a secret with as few as possible. This however raised the question as to why she had told him. The Colonel saw his hesitation and the slightly redder tone to his cheeks.

"It's alright lad, don't tell me if you don't want to."

Carth took a deep breath, "they hurt her sir. When I broke into the prison they had her in the punishment cage. She was told after she arrived on the ship that the marks are permanent."

Graves closed his eyes, "the bastards." His voice was filled with barely controlled anger. "I see, so that is why she is angry? I can understand why. Do you have feelings for her?" he asked directly.

"I don't know her," Carth tried to avoid the question.

"That isn't an answer. I'll not make you answer but think about that question." He stepped back and raised his voice, back to his full military bearing. "Anyway Lieutenant, we have a meeting to debrief, meet me up there, I'll summon them."

"Ah Lieutenant, I could see you were not lying in your report from Telos. Is it a common thing for you to be rendered unconscious?" Carth turned to see the hard face of Saul Karath as the Captain walked across the bridge.

The Lieutenant did not really know how to answer, "I do not believe so sir."

"And yet your record is two visits for both battles?" he asked mockingly. "Enough of this, I trust you have not written a report yet on your operations?"

"No sir, I only woke up an hour ago," he said woodenly.

"Ah, that must be it," Saul said unpleasantly. "This hostage has taken a shine to you, I cannot see why but she doubtless has her reasons. You did do well though, brave and foolish chasing their leader by yourself. The impetuosity of youth perhaps."

"Yes sir," Carth said, standing rigid as the Captain paced around him.

"Well, concussion has not reduced your ability to agree with me," Saul said dryly.

There was movement behind the two men and Colonel Greves appeared on the bridge.

"The gallant Colonel returns it seems. Come, the others are waiting."

Inside the meeting room already was General Let're, Commodore Moreau, Major Faltern and three people unknown to Carth. Now he looked closer, he could see one of them was one of the prisoners. She was clearly the Governor's daughter which made the two men beside her; her fiancée and the father.

"Come in Captain, gentlemen," Moreau ordered. Carth felt distinctively out of place amongst such exalted company, most were barely acknowledging him or ignoring him.

"Governor, this is Lieutenant Onasi," Moreau said calmly. Carth knew the Commodore and the General from descriptions Greves had given him. It seemed that this was not a debrief for him but more of a recognition meeting, the full details would be discussed among the brass it seemed.

The Governor brushed his small, pointed moustache thoughtfully. "We are indebted to you Lieutenant, myself and my family shall not forget this deed."

Carth was practical enough to know he would forget it as soon as he left the room. Moneyless junior officers were not dangerous or threatening so the Governor could afford to use and discard men like Carth at leisure. He nevertheless bowed his head slightly, "I thank you for your words sir. I did whatever I could to make sure they were safe."

"I am sure you did," the Governor muttered. He looked back to Moreau, "so what now Commodore?"

"We will provide an escort for your Excellency and your people back to Artanis. "

"That would suit our needs," the man replied calmly.

"Good, I have made sure that the news of this incident had been widely broadcast to deter any who would copy them. We captured a dozen or so, they are being tried now."

"They will be shot of course?" the Governor spoke with a bloodthirsty relish.

"Yes your Excellency they will be. I expect that it will happen later today." Moreau showed nothing but Saul let a small smirk out at the news.

"If that is all then I would like to be getting ready. It will be a long journey tonight," Artanis' Governor said haughtily.

"Of course your Excellency," Moreau gestured to the door. "Lieutenant Onasi, stay a moment would you? Captain, you as well."

Greves gave Carth a backward glance before he was gone out the door, following the others.

"Sir," Carth saluted the two Naval officers.

"Lieutenant, I have not had a chance to thank you for your efforts. I do so now," Moreau said. He seemed to genuinely mean his words, "however, I received a complaint from Major Faltern. Now there is time, I will ask you of it."

Saul seemed to be perversely enjoying the questioning. "He says you jeopardised the entire mission by an aggressive outburst," he said as though he wanted the Lieutenant to contradict him.

Carth saw the trap, and spoke to Moreau. "I followed his instructions sir. I am not sure of which outburst he is speaking."

"You mean there was more than one?" Saul snapped, Moreau waved a hand to silence him.

"I believe you Lieutenant, just remember that any action will have consequences and they are ones that cannot always be predicted."

"Yes sir," Carth said, unsure whether he was being reproved or not.

"Very well, I know I will hear of you more in the future Lieutenant. For now, good day."

"Have you ever seen an execution Lieutenant?" Saul asked suddenly.

"No sir," Telos had abolished capital punishment and he had not seen a military execution.

"Then you will come tonight, as my guest," Saul said mockingly. "Always good to see a traitor shot, it reminds us of our duties."

"Yes sir, I will be there," Carth said, knowing there was no way to avoid it.

"Good, I will see you there."

Carth walked back towards Morgana's temporary room, the look Greves had given him was enough for him. He needed, wanted to make up for his behaviour to her. Although he was sure he had said nothing wrong, he had seen that the woman had been in shock and pain still. It was something a pretty girl of her age would have to get used to, the distinctive burn marks over her body.

He knocked on the door, hoping she was in but at the same time hoping she was not.

The door slid open to reveal the woman, about twenty years old. Her brown eyes narrowed and she made to close the sliding door.

"Morgana, please, wait!" he said. He surprised himself by the fervour he had said it. Now he thought about it properly, he did care how the woman felt.

She did not slam the door but made no attempt to move aside either. "What do you want Lieutenant?" she asked wearily.

"I would like to apologise for any insult I may have given you. It was not my place to say such things so soon after I had woken. I understand that you may not accept this but I am trying. It is likely that after today that we shall not meet again and if that is true, I do not want to be an enemy. I would rather be remembered as a man you helped, instead of one who insulted you." The flow of words momentarily stunned both of them. Carth had had no intention of saying so much but the realisation that he cared what she thought had rattled him.

After a moment she stood aside, "come in. We can talk."

Carth sat down on a small chair by the wall while the room's owner took the divan.

Again, it was Morgana who took the initiative, "I apologise for snapping at you Lieutenant."

"Call me Carth. I quite understand why you would be angry. I made a mistake and I apologise," he said stiffly. He cursed himself, his boorish behaviour had probably angered her again.

"And I forgive you," she said to the surprise of the soldier. "It, it hurt so much and now it is on me forever. I am a marked woman. I can never forget what happened…Carth."

Carth smiled at the shy way she said his name. "I wish there was something I could do to help you Morgana. As it is, you do not need my pity. What I think you want is some time alone. I know you are going tonight but," he floundered in unfamiliar territory. "But if there is anything I can do for you ever, ask. You saved my life from Lethbone so we are equal. You have my gratitude though."

Morgana nodded her head, sad but still composed. She brushed her ebony coloured hair back as she spoke. "Then thank you, Carth. I hope that we might meet again some day so that I might make it up to you. As a friend?"

Carth smiled and stood; he held his hand out to her. "I would like that, friend."

She seemed almost relieved, though whether it was this admission of friendship or the fact she would soon be rid of him, Carth could not tell.

"Goodbye, my lady," the soldier said and turned to go.

"Lieutenant?" she called.

"Yes?" he said, turning back to her.

"Good luck," she said, then he was gone. Morgana sat on the bed, lost in thought.

Carth was five minutes early to the execution. Walking from the transportation system along to the rear of the ship, Carth finally reached the prison area. Saul Karath was there, his tall, thin body motionless as he looked out over the firing yard. Through a perma-glass screen was a wide flat area of deck leading to a tall, flat wall. The wall had built in energy suppressors which would absorb and dissipate the lethal blaster bolts that would be fired. Saul turned, looking disconcertingly like a predatory scavenger waiting for the kill, his eyes were excited. The shining blue eyes looked to Carth as he returned the Lieutenant's salute.

"You requested my presence sir?" Carth asked tonelessly.

"I did Lieutenant, I find that the occasional firing squad reinforces what our duty is. It makes us more determined to fight for the Republic, no mercy to the betrayers of our nation."

Carth thought that the Captain looked far too pleased by the immanent shooting of prisoners. He wisely kept his thoughts to himself though.

"Yes sir, they deserve what they will get."

"Of course they do," Saul said harshly. "The Governor," he invested the words with a mocking scorn, "is too squeamish to watch. If my daughter was held by the scum I would be in the firing party myself."

Carth did not doubt this was true but refrained from commenting again.

A crowd of officers and soldiers were gathering around them, though they wisely gave Saul Karath a wide berth. Carth concentrated on looking around the room, trying to keep himself from thinking about the day's excitement. For all of his patriotism to the Republic, all his desire to defend it, he disliked executions. Perhaps it was his Telosian upbringing or just his natural personality but he disliked the concept of shooting unarmed men, despite their crimes. If an opponent was killed in the heat of battle, then that was simple and direct but this cold blooded, ritualised slaughter was not to his taste.

Saul saw the slight grimace and frowned, "you disapprove Lieutenant?"

"It is not my place to say sir. I am sure that the matter has been well thought over by the High Command."

"But I asked you Lieutenant, what do you think?" Saul insisted, demanding an answer.

Carth would not let himself tell a lie, he told the truth as he saw it. "I do not like executions sir. I believe that if we shoot them in cold blood then we become just the same as they. If they attacked me whilst they were armed then I would fight and kill but now? No sir."

"So you would let murderers, rapists and traitors out would you?" Saul asked fiercely.

"There are alternatives sir," Carth said stubbornly; realising too late that he was not in a good situation.

"Alternative? That depends on your opinion Lieutenant. These men are scum, deserters and traitors, not a bunch of children. Show them weakness and you will regret it, I know this. Nothing comes without loss man, they fight, they die. What's the difference between a shot to the head now or on the battlefield?"

Carth was mercifully reprieved by the sight of the prisoners being lead out. A dozen men in prison fatigues, still stained with the blood of the last owners. All were ex-Republic men, thus making this spectacle legal without incurring the wrath of any other nations. The guilty men were lashed to poles next to the energy suppressors, paper targets were pinned over the hearts so the executioners could have a clear shot. These shooters, a dozen Republic soldiers guilty of minor crimes filed into the room, lined up opposite their allotted victim. Carth thought it was a barbaric punishment to make Republic soldiers shoot their former comrades, but one look at Saul's face was all he needed to quieten his words. The executioners presented their unloaded weapons and waited.

A small man dressed as a provost officer stepped out between the two groups. When he spoke, it was in a high pitched voice full of nervousness. "You twelve men of the accused have been found guilty of treason, subversion, piracy and desertion. The military tribunal of the Republic Navy has laid down your sentence, death. May your deaths go out as a warning to any who would think to betray this nation or its people."

Several of the prisoners spat, glaring defiantly despite the blindfolds at their killers. They stood straight though, determined to die with as much dignity as possible.

A Naval Lieutenant drew a long steel sword as he conducted the orders. "Load!" a dozen power cells were loaded into the guns. "Aim!" he called and the rifles came up to the shoulders of the firing party. "Fire!"

The guns, loaded only with a single shot, fired as one. The prisoners thrashed as the air around them erupted in bloody droplets, the bodies hung limply from their tethers. One man was still alive so the Lieutenant was obliged to dispatch the man with his sword.

"With the witness of the members of this crew, I call the sentence fulfilled. Bury the dead," the Provost commanded in his nervous voice.

"Well now that is over, we might proceed," Saul said. Carth turned to see the man was showing a small smile, as though he had enjoyed the execution, it was slightly worrying to the Lieutenant to see such pleasure.

"Yes sir, permission to leave sir?"

"Of course not, you are here for a reason," Saul snapped back to his usual aggravated mood. "The convoy leaving tonight for Artanis, you are going with it."

"Sir? But I thought-"

"Then you were mistaken," Saul snapped. "You are going for two reasons, firstly, I want you to have some experience with diplomacy and they have masses of it there. Secondly, you need some time to recover from your injury."

"I am fine sir, I am much better than I was."

"Head injuries are not to be underestimated. A week off will not cause an issue to me. You will not be alone however, you will be going with a superior officer. You will participate in any antics they set down, understood?"

"Yes sir," Carth said a little despondently.

"When you get back, we will begin with the real job. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly sir."

"Good, now get going, this was a request from someone high up. That is why you are going and not another of my officers."

"Who sir?" Carth asked.

"That is none of your business Lieutenant, be content you have some time almost on leave."

"Yes sir, thank you sir," but Saul was gone, leaving Carth alone.

Carth Onasi; Republic Lieutenant, had never considered himself a fool. As he was walking back to his room however, the thought came to him, dispelling all annoyances he might have had about being shipped off to Artanis. He would have a chance to talk to her again, the pleasant thought and the convenience of the arrangement hit him at once. He wondered quite how he had managed to land this break but he did not question his luck, just smiled at the circumstances. Suddenly, it did not seem quite so bad, at least he would have someone he knew to go along with.

These thoughts, as well as the image of the woman he had saved carried the officer back to his quarters. Once he arrived he set about packing his gear for the journey. As he was closing his pack he heard a knock on the door, he called for them to come in.

"So I hear you are going on a little trip."

Carth turned to see the small smile of Colonel Greves. He saluted the officer, "yes sir. Your doing sir?" he asked shrewdly.

The smile widened slightly, "indeed it was Carth. Or rather it was a friend of mine who agreed with my words."

"Who was it sir? Captain Karath refused to tell me."

Greves looked reflective for a moment; "you know a man named Solon?"

Carth almost staggered at the mention of his best friend's name. "Of course I do sir, Julius was my friend at the Academy. How did you know his father?"

Greves chuckled, "I wasn't always a soldier Carth, I was a stadtholder on the same world as Datus Solon. Then the Sith Wars happened and we lost contact for a long while. I joined the engineers and stayed there; I've got everything I need until I retire. We're still friends, even meet occasionally but it's not really the same now. We both have too much to do."

"So how did he manage to persuade the Commodore?"

"To be honest, it is hardly a major issue. A week is short enough for you not to be missed in peace time. Besides, I think you are happy for another reason Carth." The Colonel winked, smiling in amusement.

"Am I so transparent?" he asked, colouring slightly.

"In this regard yes."

"We are friends I think. I hope she will not mind my presence." In reality, Carth was finding his mind drifting back again and again to her sad smile and her captivating brown eyes. He was nervous though, he expected he would make a mistake like had done before and she would not even talk to him again. He was willing to take the risk though.

"I'm sure she will be happy that you are with her. Besides, I think that she thinks better of you than you might guess."

"Really? I thought she disliked me, thought I annoyed her."

Greves chuckled, "I suppose you will find out soon enough."

The Colonel pondered for a moment before continuing. "Do you have any money Carth? I mean, outside the Lieutenant's pay you receive?"

"No sir" Carth said, humbled by his lack of wealth.

He looked up to see the Colonel withdraw his hand from his pack. He looked inside and frowned. Greves had put two thousand credits, more than four week's pay into his pack. The chips glittered in the cabin's light before Carth's eyes.

"Colonel, sir, I cannot take this-"

"Yes you can dear boy. Women are expensive and you deserve this. Besides, I have no use for it anymore. Good luck lad."

"Thank you Colonel, for everything," Carth said genuinely.

"It is nothing. I hope to see you when you get back."

"Yes sir." Carth walked away, more nervous than he had been since before the battle.

A Major Cyrist Chalmers was the commander of the escort force. She waited at the bottom of the ramp to the Artanin transport, her uniform precise and neat. She looked at Carth calmly, "Lieutenant, good to see you are here. You are the last one aboard. Remember, this is not a holiday, I expect you to follow my instructions, clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, you will have work to do but also off duty time. I suppose being a hero has its points," she said with wry disapproval.

"I hardly consider myself a hero sir," Carth replied calmly. Chalmers handed him a piece of paper with a room number on it. He nodded his head in thanks.

"Perhaps, now get aboard Lieutenant," she said briskly. The Major followed him up the ramp, the engines activated as she did, the wind whipping her brown hair.

Carth moved into the large passenger area of the transport, the ship was large, perhaps one hundred yards long by sixty across. It was like a small, moving apartment building to Carth as he pushed his way through the crowd towards the aft living cabin. Finding his room, Carth pushed it open and set his kit down onto the narrow bed. The Lieutenant sniffed, the small cabin with its depressingly stark white interior would do; it was only a thirty hour journey after all.

"All crew and passengers, brace for the jump to hyperspace," a voice called over the loudspeaker.

Carth took his seat in the chair designed for this purpose, holding on as the ship jerked forward suddenly. Then, the pressure relaxed and he could stand once more. Carth frowned, naval ships had complicated and expensive pressure dampeners to absorb this jump but even this noble ship did not have such new technology.

Deciding he had spent enough time in the tiny room, Carth made for the door. As he reached it, someone knocked on the outside; the soldier frowned and opened the sliding divider.

"Lieutenant Onasi?" a tall man in civilian clothes asked. The man looked about fifty with grey hair and a small beard over his chin.

"Yes sir?" he asked, not sure if he should be honouring the other man. Carth had done the right thing.

"My name is Markov Nal'ar, aide to the Governor." He sounded like a man born and raised in the petty politics of bureaucracy, it seemed he looked down on Carth despite having only just met him. Carth was used to this by now, the frustrating arrogance shown to him got on his nerves.

"How can I assist sir?" Carth asked rigidly, hoping to turn the man away through blunt politeness.

"As you are aware, the Governor has thanked you for your assistance in dealing with the criminals." The voice was forced, like the man did not want to say what he was saying.

Carth knew that this was going somewhere, he had to play along. "Yes sir, I believe he did."

"As a nicety, you will be presented to the court to receive the official thanks of the government."

Carth flinched at the idea of such a formal occasion. "Of course sir, I would be honoured."

"I am sure," the man said dryly. "You can speak Alcalde I trust?" he asked. His face bore the smug smile of a man who knows that the answer is no.

Carth blinked, he did not speak a word of it. Alcalde was a language used in certain sectors of the inner rim; left over from the time when these worlds were independent. Though that was now millennia ago, the language was still maintained and taught in a wide variety of worlds and Artanis was one of the main centres of it. Though basic had replaced it in most occurrences, there were those who clung to the old ways and used it in ceremonies and speeches. Carth had never heard of it before a few months ago and suddenly he felt inadequate again as he straightened up.

"No sir, I do not."

The bureaucrat looked pleased, "I thought it was still commonly spoken in the core worlds?"

"I am from Telos sir and I was a militia officer before I joined the Republic Navy." Carth was getting irritated by the man's smug look, suddenly the trip did not seem so appealing as it had once done.

"Telos?" the man's implied that Carth had developed a obnoxious odour. "Well I suppose you Colonials cannot be blamed for your ignorance can you?"

Carth was very close to choking the wretched man but held back. "Apparently not sir," he answered as calmly as possible.

"Well make sure you dress appropriately, and make sure you follow the rules of the city." The man stalked off leaving Carth frustrated and angry.

"What does he expect me to do?" he asked to the empty corridor. "Start a riot?" Carth, his desire to go out into the main room blunted, laid down to sleep.

Carth was awoken by a flashing light and a spoken message that stated it was a few minutes until the ship reverted to normal space. The Lieutenant stood and made sure he was secured; as he did so, the ship jerked forward as it broke the barrier back to normal engines. Carth picked up his kit and walked out into the main room of the ship. The planet lay before him; a blue and green world that reminded the soldier of Laq'orn for a moment. Then he saw the white blobs that were the cities of Artanis, like diamonds set amongst jade and turquoise they lay, almost like a vast artwork spread before them. Carth looked around the passenger area but could see no sign of Morgana, he did not feel like asking based on the looks the Artanin passengers were giving him. The looks were of arrogant disinterest mixed with distaste, Carth more than happily returned their moods with a scowl.

The Artanin transport gently moved downward towards a group of docking bays on the outskirts of the city. The city, Carth did not know its name, was a large and seemingly populous city over twenty miles wide. It was shaped vaguely like a circle, protected by high walls from another time, but the city had expanded beyond its bounds. Now it had spilled out of the original limits of the city and had started to devour the flat plains and sea shore. From about five miles up, Carth could see the original city was built on a well laid out grid of straight roads and neat buildings. The further he looked out from the centre though, the less ordered and more chaotic it became; roads running through narrow streets.

Before his view was cut off, Carth caught a glimpse of a tall palace in the centre of the city. The ship set itself down with a small shudder, and then there was a hiss of air as the ramp lowered. The passengers moved toward the front of the ship whilst Carth made his way over to Major Chalmers.

"What is our move now sir?" he asked formally.

"We have a transport to take us to the guest rooms Lieutenant. Now come on," she ordered briskly. Carth shook his head and sighed, he really wished he hadn't come.

The city, Santailstla, Carth had discovered the cities' name from Chalmers, was like any other Carth had seen. The richer and more powerful lived in the white buildings at the centre whilst those who lived further out grew poorer and poorer. Eventually, the tangle of streets seemed to blend in with the plains, rivers and swamps that surrounded the city; it was the sort of place Carth Onasi despised. He looked around the transport but could see nothing but agitated stares and unfriendly faces. She was not on the packed transport , nor was the Governor or his daughter. Carth's mind continued to drift back to her, to Morgana Tal'vin, the only woman who had not instantly dismissed him as a non entity. She was also the person who had saved his life, and for that he was grateful, he wanted to talk to her again but realised it might be impossible. The transport slowed to a halt, Carth had not been aware of how much time had passed but it was certainly longer than the few minutes he had imagined. Before the Republic soldier was a tall building, very near to the palace, Carth could see it was the guest accommodations for visiting Republic officials because of the flags hanging down over the entrance.

Not knowing what waited for him inside, Carth exited the transport and walked up the white stone stairs and into the guest apartments. Chalmers turned to him as they passed the desk.

"Fourth floor from the top Lieutenant, room six. You have this day off but I would suggest that you learn all you can about this planet, you might need it. In the meantime, be ready for tomorrow morning, I will summon you, do not be late."

"Of course not sir," Carth said with a salute.

The Republic Lieutenant looked around the foyer; it was a very wide room which showed the typical uncaring opulence of the planet's wealthy. From the high roof, the polished wood and the uniformed servants, Carth was amazed these people could live with themselves whilst on the outskirts, the poor suffered. From what little he had seen of the galaxy and of this planet, Carth knew that such contempt for the lower classes was commonplace, he still despised it. Despite what he had seen so far as a soldier and what he knew happened in the galaxy, Carth was still an idealist. He still clung to the deluded dream that the Republic was there to give all citizens equal representation, equal freedom. One look however at this city, one of hundreds of occurrences across the galaxy, made him question his belief. He would fight for the Republic, but he knew that in the end, it was the few holding total power over the man. The soldier sighed softly and slowly walked towards the distant elevator.

Carth's room was perhaps the best one he had ever, he was not surprised considering the opulence of the rest of the building. His gaze took in the wide bed, wide terrace and excessively expensive furniture. Carth slung his pack onto the bed and headed towards the drinks cabinet. On the top of it, leaning against the glasses was a datapad. On it was a note addressing it to 'Lieutenant Carth Onasi, Republic Fleet Intelligence'. Carth frowned as he picked up the datapad and activated it, it was from Morgana and recorded a simple message.

It read: 'Lieutenant Onasi, if it is agreeable with your plans, I would like to meet with you. Come to the west wing of the Governor's Residence. Be there, an hour before dusk, the staff know you are coming. Morgana Tal'vin.' Carth nodded very slowly as he put the message tablet down, he should be pleased, ecstatic even. And in a way he was happy but he knew it would be a formal occasion where he would be expected to be polite and proper. What he wanted was a proper talk with her, nothing more, just to thank her and tell her how much he respected her. Carth sighed as he erased the datapad and left it on the cabinet, he was too nervous to drink anything now. He saw that a pass card had been left on the cabinet, he took it and pocketed it.

The Lieutenant locked his weapon away in the safe and turned his attention to his uniform, making sure it was presentable.

With nothing to do for a few hours, Carth resolved to walk through the streets of the city. He was resolved to get a glimpse of what exactly was happening in the city, especially the poorer sections outside the walls.

Morgana was certainly not going to be alone when she talked to the Republic Lieutenant. Although only an aide to the Governor's daughter, she still had a thick-set man as a guard and chaperone. She was sure that there were also a score of other such people waiting for an excuse to break up her meeting with the Republic Lieutenant. As she was dressing in the light of the afternoon sun, the Governor's daughter herself entered her room. She was still young, only twenty six but still carried an air of command and control; Morgana had seen it even in the prisons on Laq'orn. Her name was Ailea Yulara and she was not a person to cross if the rumours were to be believed.

Morgana hurriedly stood and bowed, "my lady. I did not hear you enter."

Ailea pushed her black hair out of her face, then looked to the younger woman intently. "I came to see the truth in the rumours about you. Is it true that the Republic Soldier you met is coming here?" Ailea managed to invest a deep scorn into the description, indicating that the very idea noxious.

"Yes my lady, I have," Morgana said, unsure of what her employer's expression meant.

"Why? Do you feel anything towards him?" Ailea asked bluntly.

"Well, no, but he did save my life, I thought I would thank him."

"I do not know if I would use that term, I think that it was merely a coincidence that he was there first."

Morgana was getting angry at this assertion. If the Republic soldier had not intervened, all of the prisoners would be dead. Or, even worse, she would have been left in the torture cell, she shuddered at the memory of the pain. It had marked her forever as it was and she could not imagine having suffered any more time in it. She carefully shut her feelings up and nodded.

"Perhaps my lady but I still want to thank him. He seems like a reasonable and trustworthy man."

A haughty grunt was her only response for a long moment before the Governor's daughter deigned to answer. "He is a man of no breeding, no education and no power. A colonial foot soldier raised to the officer ranks." The venom was clearly audible, her eyes were alight with anger. Ailea was making it up as she went along and both women knew that but Morgana would never contradict the arrogant woman before her.

"I could order you to call this meeting off," she warned.

Morgana's gloved hands were twitching in repressed anger but she could do nothing but bow her head. "I assure you my lady that I shall have Taercir nearby," she said, mentioning the huge man who would be her guard. "It will be entirely proper, I trust his word in this regard."

A slight hiss of disapproving breath and a narrowing of the eyes showed Ailea's disapproval. "Very well, but I shall instruct your watcher to step in if this Telosian forgets himself. Am I understood?"

"Yes my lady," Morgana replied far more calmly than she felt.

Carth was confronted by a huge man who topped his six foot height by a further three inches, a man who could crack his skull with a single blow of his fist. The Republic soldier nodded, showing nothing as he presented the pass card he had been left and waited whilst the huge man called up for instructions. Finally he led Carth into the west wing of the palace. The Lieutenant had wondered why it was called a palace when the ruler of the planet was a governor. He had found the answer in his room, written down with the rest of the history of the planet. Originally, the systems nearby had been independent, governed by a monarch who was independent from the Republic. It had continued like this until just over six centuries before when the Republic had invited the Artanis Coalition to join them. The rulers of the time had all the power and wealth they wanted, they did not want to be reduced to mere dependants. Unfortunately, the people wanted the promise of fairer rights, representation and freedom from the feudal powers of the royals. Eventually it became a civil war, the history had been deliberately evasive as to cause but the end result was that the Republic had ended the war. Now the palace was occupied by the governor and the planetary senate.

Then Carth forgot all about history because the doors to the elevator opened to admit him into a wide room with an encircling balcony. It was clearly not Morgana's room, evidenced by the largesse of the decorations that no mere aide could afford. So she had borrowed the room obviously but for a purpose that Carth did not understand.

"Remember, hands off the lady," the huge man behind him rumbled. Carth was insulted that people believed he would take advantage of the woman. He bit back his frustration, making no response to the provocative words.

Morgana turned as the door opened and smiled politely. "Lieutenant, I was glad you could make it."

"As was I my lady," Carth said with a bow. Morgana was wearing, as she had on the ship, heavy and concealing clothes. Black and dark blue fabric flowed over her body, hiding everything but her pretty face. She held out a gloved hand to the soldier who took it and gently kissed the top of it. Carth had learned enough from the ramblings of Julius Solon to know that this was the way to deal with the situation. He wished for a moment that he had the aristocrat with him, he would have known exactly what to do. Although, on second though, perhaps it would not have been the wisest idea, considering his obsession with women.

She took her hand back and nodded to the vast man behind them, "Taercir, you may go inside. Watch me if you will but stay there, you will know if I need help."

"Yes, lady," the man growled and walked inside.

"A formidable guard my lady," Carth said approvingly.

"Morgana, please, call me Morgana," she reproved gently.

"And if you would call me Carth then I shall, Morgana."

"Since we are here Lieutenant, I mean Carth," she blushed slightly before going on. "I want to tell you that I appreciate what you did for me. Don't protest or be modest and forget what others say. If you had not been there I could not have helped you later and I would have been dead or worse." Her thin body shuddered at the memory of her leering captors taunting her. "But not everybody will see it that way, already the Governor's daughter has tried to stop this meeting. I know that you are a man of your word, I think I know anyway, they will try to ignore you."

Carth did not know what to say, in truth he did not know what he should have expected from this dusk meeting. He felt tongue-tied and hesitant but focussed his thoughts on making a coherent reply.

"I suspected as much from what they have said to me so far. Perhaps I would do better if I knew more about this city."

Morgana looked surprised at the words but nodded slowly.

"My job is to advise my lady about history and politics, I spent most of my early years learning it."

"I would like to hear it Morgana," Carth said calmly. He was standing a decorous and non-intrusive yard away from her, just in case the muscle bound bodyguard took a decision he did not have the brain power to do.

"You would? Well, it is a long story, I am sure you have read about the general history." With that, she became lost in her own little reality, talking rapidly of the history of Artanis. Carth tried to memorise as much as he could whilst surreptitiously looking at her enlivened face. The sun was setting, the dying fires of the sun sparkled in her eyes. Eventually she looked him in the eye.

"Does that help Lieutenant?" she asked slyly, using his last name with a wry inflection.

"It does indeed my lady," he said, mockingly returning to her title as she had done to his.

Morgana smiled, "and what of you Carth? What is a man like you doing in the ranks of the army?" she said it genuinely, no offence carried by the words.

"A man like what?" he asked teasingly.

The joking answer seemed to surprise her, she reddened very slightly. "No offence intended Lieutenant," she said shyly.

Carth smiled in return, "I was joking my lady," he said softly.

She shook her head, blushing even more, "yes, I mean, no." She ran her hand over her eyes and smiled. "You have not answered my question Lieutenant," she asked.

"I have been a soldier for just over three years and already seen more fighting than most people ever will. I'm a Telosian as you might have heard, I was a militia Lieutenant there until the Sith tried to subvert the government. I led the troops who broke in, the leader got away but we still won. I got into the academy and my first mission was to help rescue you and your party."

"Though many will say that it was just a coincidence, I will not."

Carth sensed that he was running out of superficial conversation; he sought to improvise as best he could. "So what happens while I am here, to me I mean."

"There will be a reaffirmation of the treaty to the Republic tomorrow. It's all just a ceremony, its all been discussed before and the terms set. Then you will receive the highest honour that we can give. Tomorrow is also going to be a formal function."

Carth sighed, he had never been to any such event before and was certain he could have lived without such frippery. There was no getting out of it though and at least Morgana would be there. One acquaintance in a sea of disapproval.

"I am sure I will manage," he said after a moment.

"I am sure you will Lieutenant. Can you speak Alcalde?"

"No my lady," he said, embarrassed by his ignorance.

To his surprise, she smiled comfortingly, "I can however." She stopped, seemingly nervous and troubled, "Lieutenant-"

"Carth, please call me Carth. I hate being formal unless I can avoid it."

"Then you will hate tomorrow," she murmured. "Carth, do you have a person to go with to this?"

The soldier's eyes widened slightly; the Artanin lady blushed at her own forwardness. "Are you sure that is a good idea Morgana?"

"It is not something you want?" she asked, a little hurt.

"No, no, listen Morgana. You have so much here, by your own skills. I don't want you getting yourself into trouble because of me."

She nodded slowly in response. "Yes, I see your point Lieu-, I mean Carth. But it's the least I can do. Besides, it is considered bad luck if one does not have another beside them."

Carth smiled, still pleased by her request. "So I will be your mounted trophy?" he asked lightly.

"Not exactly, but close enough I suppose. Will you accept?"

"I shall my lad-, Morgana."

Carth gently took the hand and laid a polite kiss onto the top before walking from the balcony. It was getting chilly but Carth's mind was elsewhere. The soldier sighed and walked out of the room and down the elevators. The city, this shining part of it at least, was clean and beautiful. Slowly, the Lieutenant walked through the dark streets, his mind on what the next night would bring.


	8. Chapter 5b

_Reviews, I like reviews. Thanks once more as always to Prisoner for the proof reading._

_Alice: Thank you. I am surprised that you got it, but yes. The Sharpe Series is brilliant in my opinion, and I used it as an inspiration. I am glad you liked it._

_Tinuviel__ Undomiel: Yes, yes she will. It will be a bumpy road though._

_Ether-Fanfic: Saul changes. They earn each other's trust. That is many years away though. War changes men, even Saul Karath._

_Snackfiend101: Karath is not a nice man. Remember that. Carth gets to trust and respect him. But there is little nobility in the fierce man's character.___

Chapter 5b

Carth toured the defences and military sites of Artanis the next day. It was hardly rewarding or stimulating, just a collection of barracks, hangers and factories. Major Chalmers did her best to show interest but Carth could not summon the will. The Artanin guides merely took this as another sign of the Lieutenant's low breeding. Once, they passed through one of the poorer areas of the city and the denizens of this suburb tried to hide from the speeder's passage. Carth looked at the poverty stricken areas of the city and found he could not meet the people's gazes. The peasants, as they were called by the guides, shrunk away and Carth did not have to be a sociologist to see what happened when nobody from outside was watching. There was nothing the Lieutenant could do though, so he said nothing, alternating between looking attentive and thinking of Morgana. The afternoon was already old by the time the party returned to the centre of the city, with only enough time for the Republic officers to prepare.

As they walked up the stairs of their residence, Chalmers pulled Carth aside. She pushed back her brown hair and looked at him firmly.

"Tonight will all be ceremonial, let myself and Lord Kuren do the talking." Lord Alphus Kuren was ambassador to the Artanin worlds, an experience man whose main career was in the past. Now, close to retirement, the old man had taken the trouble free post of ambassador, it was a post he was known to enjoy.

"Yes sir, I would not know what to do otherwise," Carth said frankly.

Interestingly, Chalmers smiled, "There are few men who can admit their weaknesses so honestly. You are young still, and you will learn that much of being a soldier is not fighting, it is talking. Especially in our field, intelligence takes just that to work."

"Thank you sir. Can you speak Alcalde?"

"I can, I went to school here for a year, in this very city." She gave Carth a sly look. "Not that you'll have any trouble tonight."

"You know sir?" the Lieutenant asked, surprised.

"I made a guess Lieutenant and you confirmed it. It seems to be common knowledge anyway. Enjoy yourself, smile a lot and you'll be fine."

The Major walked off, she seemed happier than she had for the last few days. Perhaps she really did enjoy formal ceremonies Carth considered.

Morgana Tal'vin had just finished preparing when the door to her room opened. It was not a lavish room, she had neither the money or position for that. Instead, it was clean, simple and fulfilled its purpose until she had somewhere else to go to. She called for the visitor to enter, supposing it would be an attendant urging her to be ready. Instead it was the Governor's daughter, Ailea Yulara herself. Morgana got to her feet with a start from her seat, her concealing black dress rustling.

"My lady, I did not-" she began but she was ignored.

"So you decided to ignore me? You are going to be in the company of that Republic Lieutenant aren't you? Why?"

Morgana thought she knew the answer but decided to be careful, "It is a show of gratitude. He has no second, it will be a symbolic participation between the Republic and us."

There was a snort, "you are sounding like my father Morgana. You and I both know the real reason you are going with him. And I will not allow it to happen," she said fiercely.

Morgana knew what the woman meant but was not sure if it was true. She had not really considered it up until now. She had known Ailea for half her life but never known her to be as aggressive as this before. It was unsettling to Morgana to see a woman she might have called a friend so angry over nothing.

"My lady, please, the Republic Ambassador is to be beside Major Chalmers. It is a move of convenience."

"In that case, yes. Let me make this very plain, you work for me."

Morgana frowned. "What are you implying my lady?"

"You will not take this any further, am I understood?" She waited for an acceptance, an acceptance she did not get, she tried again. "Am I understood?" she asked threateningly.

"Yes my lady," Morgana said with a soft sigh.

"It is for your own good. You deserve better than a low born Republic soldier."

With that, she was gone. Morgana sat on the bed again, wringing her gloved hands together in nervousness. She had not really considered what she felt for the Lieutenant. Now she could see it was more than friendly concern that had made her invite him as her second. She needed time to sort her thoughts out but there was none. The chronometer showed she had a few minutes until she had to leave. Morgana sighed as she stood, the concealing black dress flowed around her as she made for the door. Did she feel for him? She could not be entirely sure. If she did, was it simple infatuation or something more than that and did he feel the same way? Morgana had no answers to the questions buzzing in her head.

The full dress uniform of a Republic naval lieutenant was decidedly uncomfortable. It was dashing and looked impressive but it was also impractical. Carth pulled on his belt and tightened it, finally looking at his reflection in the mirror. From the white gloves to the long blue jacket with the black facings up to the silver ring on the shoulder, Carth Onasi looked impressive. He secured the last gold coloured button, checked his sword and pistol was on his belt then walked for the door. The uniform had been incredibly expensive but Captain Karath had insisted that his officers set a good example. Considering how much his pay was in arrears, Carth wondered how he would pay for anything, starting with his mess fees.

These financial worries carried him out the door and towards the palace. The best course would have been to take the waiting transport, but the Lieutenant decided to walk the three hundred yards across the white tile square. Again the thought of his homeworld mixed with that of his current mission. He had not been back in more than three years and he desperately wanted to see his family as soon as he could. As a soldier, he had accepted the possibility of death, but still could not face it in others. Then there was Morgana. If Carth was honest with himself, and he didn't like having to be honest with himself often, he would say he felt for the woman. What he could not decide was whether it was any more than the attraction any person in his position would feel or whether it was more than that. His hands, not used to the gloves started to prickle with sweat despite the chill breeze blowing around him. He showed his pass to the sentry by the gates to the palace, was let in and walked across the wide square. On certain days, this would be the parade ground for some of the local militia units, but tonight it was empty save for a scattering of people. Mildly interested looks followed the Republic soldier as he moved towards the stares, and then the Artanin citizens went back to their lives.

The palace loomed before Carth; it seemed to be vaguely based on the design of the core world's finest buildings but subtly different. With its domes, towers and arches, it looked like something from the dead worlds of the rim than the capital of a major confederation. It had been built to impress and it certainly achieved that;, the door itself was twelve foot tall whilst the wall itself was ten times that. The Lieutenant walked into the palace's foyer, uncertain of what the night would bring.

"Lieutenant!" a voice called from Carth's left. The soldier turned but could see no one he knew, thinking he misheard, he started to move onward. "Lieutenant Onasi," the voice called, nearer this time.

Carth turned to see the regal figure of Major Chalmers beside a second man. The older man was something of a dandy with his short white hair, moustache and exquisite blue uniform. Gold lace and silk seemed to be the main components, balanced by the Hero's Cross he wore on his chest. The Major was no less well dressed, a full dress army uniform complete with two Bronze Stars.

"Lieutenant, let me introduce Ambassador for the Republic, Lord Alphus Kuren."

"Sir," Carth said with a bow. He had learnt that repeating the word sir with enough conviction usually made such interviews easier. The older man sensed it too.

"Ah, the famous soldier. Quite an exploit you pulled. Would it be remiss of me to display my gratitude?"

"Not at all sir, thank you sir," Carth said rigidly.

"You can relax slightly Lieutenant, this is not an inquisition," Chalmers said. She seemed even happier now than she had before and Carth thought he knew why. He could see that she was much closer to the Ambassador than mere rank or social issues would suggest.

Kuren saw his gaze and smiled. "You understand now Lieutenant? Cyrist here is my step daughter, poor dear's mother died after the war so it was up to me to make sure she lived over it. I think I've done quite well." His voice was slow with a tanging accent that was in no ways unintelligent.

"I am pleased to meet you sir," Carth said with a little more feeling.

"And I you. Cyrist dear, can you leave us for a moment?"

"Of course Ambassador," she said formally and backed off to talk to some Artanin nobles.

"Is there something you needed sir?" Carth asked the noble when they were relatively alone.

"It may not seem that way Lieutenant but Morgana Tal'vin is a person of some influence."

"But sir, she said-" Carth began, focussing on the man for the first time.

"She told you she was poor and an aide to the governor's daughter? Well she is, but money is not everything dear boy. Though she is but an aide now, one day, she might be so much more. In twenty years, she might be married to the governor, she pins her hopes on knowledge and skill, not money. Besides, any of the men who become governor already have all the money they will ever need. No, what they need is a wife who knows the customs and laws and above all, is pretty enough to justify his position."

"Why are you telling me this sir?" Carth asked after a few seconds of silence.

"I am telling you not to set your heart upon a course it cannot go. Whatever you might feel for her Lieutenant, I fear she will disappoint you."

The Lieutenant nodded slowly, letting a long sigh out. "Sir, I hardly know her. I couldn't even tell you my thoughts for her, not yet."

"Then remember what I said Lieutenant, when you do know. Anyway, we had best be on the look out for her, yes?"

"Yes sir," Carth replied dully, he tried to remain straight backed but could not prevent a small slump.

"And her family Lieutenant, do not even go near them," Kuren muttered before moving on.

The man at the door who announced the names of those who entered finally spoke the words the soldier wanted to hear.

"Lady Morgana Tal'vin, daughter of Aquein Tal'vin."

Carth moved his way forward as a few eyes turned up to the woman entering from the interior of the palace. A set of stairs lead down from the inner palace, opposite the entrance from the outdoor courtyard. Carth's eyes looked at the grave brown eyes and then down to the all concealing clothes and he told himself the Ambassador was right. She deserved better than a bankrupt, uneducated Lieutenant whose chances of promotion were slim and whose name would be likely forgotten as soon as some other man performed a heroic act. Morgana stood aside to admit the Governor himself, Tralin Yulara and his daughter. There was widespread applause which Carth joined in rather half-heartedly as the group descended the stairs. There seemed to be no wife, just father and child who reached the bottom and started talking with animation to the nobles around him. Carth moved to the edge of the crowd and then through to where the attendants of the rulers were standing. Markov Nal'ar, the pedantic bureaucrat from the transport was standing before Carth. For a moment he looked like he would protest but then decided that would involve acknowledging the Lieutenant. He stood aside as the group of people broke ranks to talk to those in the Governor's group. Morgana smiled genuinely when she saw him, walking gracefully towards him and offering her hand. There was a buzz of words around him and some suspicious glances; nobody protested as he lightly pressed his lips to the black leather of the gloves.

"My lady," he said formally, stepping back and bowing.

"Lieutenant," she said calmly.

All around, the various guests were taking their places and making their way into the main room. Carth gently took the lady's hand and lead her forward and through the doorway. The space before him was huge, a hundred yards wide at least, leading up to a platform at the far end which seemed to be the focus of attention. The two of them were lost amid the swirling tide which pushed them ever closer towards the front. Finally, they stood about a quarter of the way back from the front, waiting for the event to start.

They did not have to wait long, there was a commotion and then silence as the Governor appeared on the stage beside the Ambassador. The ruler of this system, resplendent in a smart militia uniform took the stand before the waiting crowd. Morgana moved closer in beside Carth as the man started speaking. As he had feared, the ruler was speaking in Alcalde, ensuring it sounded like gibberish to the Lieutenant. His eyes had just started to glaze over as he lost himself in his own thoughts as a small voice spoke from beside his shoulder. Morgana was three inches smaller than him, tall for the woman around him, but only eye height for the soldier.

"And it is in this day that we must give our thanks to the nature that has given us freedom, equality and the right to our own destiny." Morgana began to translate for him and her voice was so soft that none around could hear her, only Carth. She was so close that he could feel her breath on his neck. Although she was speaking like a translator in the Galactic Senate, Carth had a hard time focusing on what she said, but he was pleased, honoured even, that she would help him in this way. He looked down at her and her eyes were shut as though she read from a book only she could see.

"And it was with sorrow that we learned of first the ensnarement of the sole heir to my line and many of those around her. Then it was with joy when we heard of her release from these cruel and barbarous enemies. For that, we have the nation who took us in when all seemed darkest, the Galactic Republic. Though it affected few of our people and none were harmed, it was an indication of what I already knew. That a mutual relationship is the only sort that can benefit our nations. Together, the Republic and the Artanin Confederation has proved that stability is not a dream." There was a round of applause, giving Carth a chance to look at the girl. She smiled shyly at him and tightened her grip on his hand, the movement shielded from those around by her dress.

Carth finally got the chance to move towards her slightly, close enough to touch her. "Thank you." His words only carried to her but some around them again looked at the two of them. The Lieutenant began to feel uncomfortable in the searchlight gazes from the civilians around him. Morgana must have sensed or felt his uncertainty for her gloved grasp tightened then relaxed as if to tell him to ignore the veiled stares. She was right though, a moment or so later, attention turned once more to the stage where Ambassador Kuren was beginning a reply.

Although Morgana translated the words, Carth could not be bothered to pay attention until she nudged him in the ribs. He had found the black dressed woman far more interesting, but was roused by her movement.

"He is getting to the part relevant to you," she whispered to him. As if on cue, the Ambassador nodded to Carth. "In this glorious triumph over the enemies of liberty, we had the good fortune to have an officer of initiative and skill. Fighting his way through the enemy he reached his Excellencies' daughter before the brutes could turn on her. Lieutenant Carth Onasi," he said the rank in basic but Morgana translated it anyway.

Carth was aware that all eyes were on him, he had no idea what to do. He bowed with the appropriate amount of gravity, hoping he would not be called upon to do anything. He was not, Ambassador Kuren turned away and continued on. Carth was too relieved to catch anything but the last words that were translated for him.

"And on this day, the bonds between Republic and Confederation shall be declared again. May they stand together against any coming storm."

There was another round of applause as the two men signed a ceremonial version of the treaty. Morgana coughed slightly, her voice was horse from speaking constantly for the last twenty minutes.

"Lieutenant, would you allow me a glass of water?" she asked politely.

"Of course, love," Carth said, then realised his words. She stared at him and cocked her head to the side, the soldier stammered something inadequate. He cursed himself a hundred times, he had just said something he had not intended in a way he should have never spoken.

Morgana did not seem angered, more wryly amused at the slip. "So Lieutenant, I knew soldiers were direct and this proves it, yes?"

Carth was more than a little red, as though he had just run a mile in the hot sun. ""That's not what I meant to say. I'm sorry I was so forward."

"Well, if you mean something then it is best you say it. Do you mean it Lieutenant?"

Carth didn't know how to answer, he was lost in a conversation he had not meant to have. Most of all however, he was lost in her wide eyes, and he knew it had been no accidental turn of phrase.

The Artanin woman saw his reluctance and smiled. "I am still thirsty Lieutenant, let us go away from all these people." She coughed dryly to emphasise her point, the soldier got the point and lead her to the buffet as gracefully as possible.

People jostled at the tables for the food but Carth's stomach was too uncertain about his current situation to contemplate eating. It seemed Morgana thought the same as she returned with a simple glass of iced water, and then lead the Lieutenant to a secluded corner of the vast room.

As she sat and sipped at her drink, Carth tried to politely look on at the dancing couples but was failing. Every few second he would glance to the side at his companion and every few seconds he would remember himself and look back at the room. Eventually the lady beside him laid her glass aside and caught his odd back and forth looks.

"Something wrong with your neck Lieutenant?" she asked teasingly.

"Well no, of course not, I mean." Carth stuttered into silence as she smiled winningly at him.

"I think Lieutenant that we can admit that we are both taking an interest in each other that goes beyond being acquaintances."

"I would like to think of you as a friend, my lady," Carth said, concealing a smile.

"Indeed. So, you are a Telosian?"

Carth wondered why she had suddenly switched topics, he nodded though. "Yes my lady. And you?"

"I should have thought that was obvious Lieutenant. I have done little except study and wait," she sighed at the words.

"And what of the future?" Carth probed.

"I see that you would be fascinated. I do not know Lieutenant, what the future holds. And you go on being a soldier because you are good at it?"

"I have nothing else I know I can do better," the soldier put in.

"And when you leave here, you will likely never see me again. Does that sadden you?" her words clearly showed that it saddened her.

"I think it might be for the best."

The Republic officer heard the sharp gasp, soft but there as she looked back at him. Her brown eyes blinked rapidly. "I see, I suppose that what you say is true…."

"I am not trying to be so forward. Look Morgana, I think you are right, but we cannot go on this way."

Again, Carth got the impression his brusque words had hurt her. Her eyes looked down slightly and she nodded.

"I understand Lieutenant, I suppose we must sacrifice even friendship for duty," her words were soft and strangely hollow.

"No my lady, I was not suggesting that. We both owe each other debts that cannot be repaid because if one had not happened we wouldn't be here. I'll never forget that it was you who saved me but I cannot do anything more. You are the aide to the Governor's daughter, just twenty one, in ten years, who knows where you will be? One thing is certain, it will be better known than I will be. You are a beautiful woman Morgana, I mean that but despite anything I might think, you can do better."

For a moment she stared at him with one eyebrow raised. Carth could not see anything on her face, no expression, when she spoke, it was soft. "But the future is not set, Carth. In the end, it is my decision Carth. Not Ailea's, not my parent's and not the Governor's, mine." Her face was slightly flushed, with both anger and sorrow.

Carth held up his hand to placate her. "I know Morgana. I am not saying that I am going to ignore you. You have much to lose and I do not."

"And what makes you think I was ever interested in you?" she asked stiffly.

The soldier smiled to try and relieve the tension. "I not certain you are but we would not be having this conversation if you thought nothing about me. Even if you didn't, I have thought of you."

Morgana sighed, "You speak the truth, despite my efforts to avoid it. You are also right however on the time before. I do not know if they would support it. But you say you have thought of me? In what way?"

The Lieutenant sighed, this was not going to be easy. "You are a beautiful woman Morgana and I would be happy to have you accompany me while I am still here."

The woman seemed to sense, correctly that this was not all, but before she could continue, they were interrupted.

"Ah there he is, the gallant soldier himself. I hope you are not taking the hero's attention all for yourself Morgana." It was the Governor himself with the Republic Ambassador. Like all good politicians, he kept his real feelings surfaced but still, his thoughts towards Carth were still visible. He showed a concealed arrogance towards Carth and his look between him and Morgana clearly showed his thoughts on that matter.

"Sir, I was not aware that my presence was needed," Carth said and stood.

"There is one last thing, as promised I have the highest decoration we can be bestow. Lord Kuren advised that presenting it before so many would not be wise considering the language problems."

The Lieutenant knew exactly why the man had chosen that moment to interrupt, he and Morgana had been leaning closer to each other. Governor Yulara must have suspected something and had thus taken the initiative in a diplomatic way. Morgana had backed away and now had her head down, staring at the floor. Carth cursed the man silently, but still nodded.

"A wise idea sir," he said despite his real thoughts.

"Then here, the Artanin Lion Cross," he said and produced a handsome silver cross about an inch from the hub to each of the four prongs. It bore an emblazed figure of a creature that was presumably a lion, something Carth had not heard of before. He bowed his head in acceptance.

"Thank you sir," he said with as much conviction as he could.

"Good, now, if this is done, I do not think that there is more that needs to be said. Lady Tal'vin, if you would care to follow me," it was a command, not a question.

"Yes my lord," she said and moved to beside the Governor.

It was all Carth could do to stop himself injuring the pompous Governor, he gripped his hands behind his back as the ruler and woman walked away. The Ambassador looked at him and shrugged.

"I told you Lieutenant," he said simply.

"If he had waited five minutes-"

"He is a politician, the reason he gives you the medal now is to forget about you." Lord Kuren sighed, "anyway, I could have seen that this would happen. You will not be allowed to see her again, no matter your intentions and she will go back to her life."

"It is for the best, but why couldn't he have let us decide that for ourselves?"

"The man used to be the largest stadtholder in the confederation, he knows he has to keep his assets close to him. He has a long term use for her I warrant, though what it is, I cannot say."

"If he does anything to her-" Carth began.

"It's not like that dear boy, she is valuable to him, in the sense that she is another pawn in his game here. A beautiful young woman is something he values because it gives him power."

Carth sighed and sat down heavily on the seat, avoiding the glass Morgana had set down just a few minutes before.

"It's more than that isn't it?" Lord Kuren said, his formal manner discarded. The Ambassador knew that the young officer before him was hurt and it was his job to stop that hurt becoming something dangerous.

"No, nothing sir, thank you," Carth said, pocketing the medal and making to stand.

"Lieutenant, don't do anything rash, you're young."

"I won't sir, you have my assurance on that."

Lord Kuren still looked a little suspicious but nodded in agreement. "Good, now do what you wish for the rest of tonight."

Morgana had tried to be unnoticed for the rest of the night, all the time trying to catch a glimpse of the Lieutenant. She had not seen the soldier and she had assumed he had left. As the last people left however, she steeled herself for her fate, she had done nothing, but that was not what mattered. She was tired and more than a little uncertain of what the Governor and his daughter would say to her. She asked herself again and again how she felt about him and why. She could think of not answer, no easy solution; the way he looked at her was almost irresistible. Was it love she felt, or merely a rebellion against her employers and the society that would use her as easily as a credit chip? She was means to an end and she didn't like it; Morgana Tal'vin had never liked it. And was this Lieutenant also just a means to her own selfish ends or did she actually care? That was another question the Artanin lady could not answer as she followed the Governor and his daughter into their officer. She felt like a nervous schoolgirl brought before the headmaster; she fought down these submissive thoughts, it was her life.

"Take a seat Morgana," Governor Yulara said crisply.

When this was done, Ailea Yulara looked at her with a sort of aloof disdain. "Do you remember the conversation we had just last night?"

"My lady, there was nothing-"

"I asked for an answer, not a lecture," she snapped.

"Yes my lady," Morgana said a little sullenly.

"Then you will know of my surprise, nay, disgust when I witnessed that soldier trying to seduce you. I would have you had the sense to avoid it. Although, with such brutes it is often best not to anger their small intelligence."

"He was not seducing me my lady. Is it not possible that he and I were talking? It is possible that he was not trying to corrupt me you know?"

Two sets of eyes narrowed, almost in unison. "I will thank you for not being smart to me Lady Tal'vin," Ailea snapped.

"You are making too much out of this, nothing happened. He will be gone in a few days," Morgana said, trying to undo the damage.

"So you say. You deserve better than him. If this is true, then you will not mind not seeing him again. We shall say you are occupied with important business."

"Yes my lady," Morgana muttered.

"I'm glad you agree, since that sort would not think twice about casting you off. Soon he will be gone and you can get back to what you are really here for."

"Which is?" Morgana challenged but neither of them answered. "Just because he is poor does not make him a bad person."

"A bad person? So he's a pleasant brute is he but still a brute. You can dress a swamp beast in silk but it is still a marsh dweller. Forget him and do not defend him. Am I understood?"

"Yes my lady."

"Good, then you'll not object to staying here."

"Not even to-"

"No! You will have no more contact with this soldier."

"As you wish," Morgana stalked miserably from the room.

She would speak to him once more in private, no matter what happened to herself. She had to settle the question once and for all: did the two of them think the same way?

It was nearly afternoon before Carth was awake and dressed. He had little to do for a day and a half so he had got some proper rest and then write his report of the battle. After about a half dozen false starts, the Lieutenant finally sat down to write his version of the battle. It was not difficult, he had copies of Greves' and Let're's analysis to go on, and it should have been easy. Somehow though, he just couldn't focus on what he was doing, thoughts of the night before flashed into his mind. The soldier had nothing to do, nothing that would clear his mind of the turmoil. The city depressed him, the contrast of rich and poor was too much for him, his mood was worsened by the realisation that there was nothing he could do about it. He could not concentrate on the report of the battle that had brought him to this planet, to this sapping indolence. He had no desire to relive it, no desire to remember the woman he had saved. He had been right though, she could and would do better than him, but that was no relief. Carth ran a hand through his brown hair and sighed, there was nothing else he would rather do. So he was stuck here for a day and a half, unable to talk to her but taunted by her nearness, trapped in the city which was the opposite of all the Republic stood for. It was one thing to make pompous speeches in great halls about the great merging of nations but it was quite another to apply it to the people that lived here. Carth remembered the fear in the eyes of the people he had passed in the speeder, he hated this city and all of its conniving bureaucrats. Men who thought he was beneath him because he was not a few thousand credits richer.

Realising these thoughts were getting him nowhere, Carth stood and strapped on his belt. He left the sword in the locker and made for the sleek wooden door; before he could reach it, there was a knock. Lieutenant Onasi sighed for the third time in as many minutes and pulled the door open.

Instead of an Artanin servant or citizen, Major Chalmers stood before him, her face neutral.

"Lieutenant, I hope I am not delaying you from anything important?" she asked formally.

"No Major, come in, I was just going out."

Chalmers walked into the room, it was easy to see that the younger man was distracted, almost lost. The army officer walked to the table and sat at one of the chairs, Carth followed after a moment's hesitation.

"What can I do for you sir?" Carth asked vaguely.

Chalmers' eyes took in the scattered paper and datapads, the disorganised sprawl and then up to the face of her second in command for this mission.

"You are distracted Lieutenant. It's the girl isn't it? The Ambassador told me what happened." He looked across at her, wondering why she was here. Perhaps she also had nothing to do and sought company among those she felt she could talk to.

Carth sighed, "Yes Major I am. I don't know, I'm just so annoyed."

"At her?"

"No, of course not at her. At those people who think they own her. They were right but that doesn't mean they have to be like this does it? Now I will not see her again, what did they expect me to do?"

Chalmers picked up the bitterness in his voice and was at a loss to council him. She couldn't really understand, the Lieutenant was irritated because another person had told her that they could not be together? It made no sense to the Major so she struggled for an appropriate answer.

"You knew her only for a few days, is it so bad?"

"I only have one life Major and she saved it when she had not call to, no reason to follow me. But she did and my attempt to befriend her is met with suspicion and condescension."

"Do you love her?" Chalmers asked him directly and for the first time.

Carth frowned, he had not expected such a direct query. "It doesn't matter what I think," he said.

"It does, but that isn't what I asked. Do you or don't you?"

The Lieutenant frowned, "I don't know sir. If she let me…."

"Bear with me Onasi but I know what you have been through. A similar position, sometimes we have no choice but to accept the turn that fate gives us."

Carth put a brave smile on to cover his true thoughts. "It will not affect me after today Major."

"Good, now, we have to be ready to leave tomorrow evening. Do you wish to come with me out to their defence areas? It is an affair of diplomacy."

"Of course sir, I have nothing else to do here."

Chalmers looked down at the mess on the table and back up to the Lieutenant, it would be a good idea if he came, she decided.

Carth was back in his room by the time the sun dipped below the horizon, he had gone for the entire afternoon without thinking about Morgana. Then he realised he just had and his carefree mood vanished. Chalmers was in the palace with the Ambassador, signing another mutual defence treaty. The holo-vid had nothing worth watching except some tedious agricultural program. Carth sat down and decided to write his report.

He was halfway through it, writing as quickly as possible so he did not have to think about, when he heard a noise. On his wide balcony, there came the slight noise of footsteps. The soldier was up and had the pistol low and ready, set on stun as he heard it again. He had left the sliding entrance unlocked, now he moved into the deep shadows, out of sight. The door slid open and the Lieutenant moved behind the cloaked figure, then slammed the door. Startled, the intruder jumped, turning to stare at the pistol and the agitated Republic soldier who held it.

Before Carth could speak, the hood was pushed back; it was Morgana. "Surprised to see me Lieutenant?"

"I am surprised that you decided to sneak in when the front door would be a better way."

"I have been banned from speaking to you by the order of the Governor himself. If I walked in normally, word would get back."

"Then why are you here Morgana? I wanted to talk to you but not to get you in trouble with your employers."

"Owners," she said softly.

"What?" Carth thought he had misheard.

"It feels like I am their servant sometimes. "I also wanted to talk to you, and they were not going to stop me getting here." Her voice was hard and determined.

"Fair enough, but it is not worth it if they catch you," Carth tried to insert a note of caution.

"Maybe it is," she said gnomically.

"How did you get here?" Carth asked, hoping to get explanations out of her the oblique way.

"Simple really, there is a service shaft that runs up the core of the building. I took it and went into an empty room which is above you, then I dropped down here." She saw his incomprehension and shock. "I knew what I was doing Lieutenant."

The soldier got a grip on reality. "Please don't do it again."

"Yes sir," she said dryly.

"So why are you here?"

"After last night I did some thinking…Carth. I thought about my prospects, my life at present and why I was doing what I do and why. You now what? I have done nothing in my life, nothing that actually means anything. I have studied and been polite and learnt the ten different positions for cutlery depending on the function, useful I am sure," her voice was ironic, "but why?" Why have I spent twenty years doing something I dislike? And what are my future prospects? Apparently, my future goal is to be available to be married to someone important. A pretty prize he can carry around in public and show his peers. It doesn't matter what I want, it has never mattered what I want, only that I stay in the little circle I have been placed. If I leave that, I am ruined, if I make a mistake, I am finished. And after all this, what do I get? I get married to a man I have no choice over and then I am forgotten. Can you imagine it Carth? Being stuck with someone you never knew before, going to a function like that one last night every couple of days? Why do I want that?"

Her voice had hardened and lowered so her last words were cold and half whispered. She stood back, her anger going and her radiant face saddened. Carth was surprised by the ranting tirade, genuinely surprised. He had always expected that if a person was wealthy, the last thing they would do would be to complain about it. Carth, before today at least would not have understood. Now he saw her annoyance, her determination and could not think of the right thing to say.

"So what will you do?" he asked.

"It is what I won't do that is the thing. I am not staying here to be bartered like a sack of meal."

"It is your decision, but is it what you want?"

The eyes looked up defiantly. "Yes. Last night they scolded me like some simpering infant. I am my own person and it took this whole incident to show me how much I am under their control. I will not have that."

"So what will you do?" Carth repeated.

"Do? I don't know," she said distractedly. "Leave this place, leave the divider between rich and poor."

"Why are you here Morgana? I can't tell you the answers you want, I am not a councillor but a soldier."

"I wanted to talk to you Carth, not anyone else." All of a sudden she seemed a lot more uncertain, like she did not know how he would react to her words. Morgana was a lot more self conscious now and Carth, for the life of him could not tell why. Finally, with a great effort she looked up into his sympathetic face.

"I can try and hide the truth Carth but I cannot hide it from you. It has gnawed me since I first met you and even more so from last night until now. I know that you do not likely share my thoughts but I will say them now."

Carth knew what she was going to say, somehow he could see in her eyes. He felt like protesting but could not as her worried eyes met his.

"Though I have only seen you a couple of days, I feel like I am a lot closer to you than any person I have met in the past. I want to go with you," she said the words with a great effort.

The Lieutenant stared at her for a moment. "But I have nothing, I am a soldier with nothing. I have no money except what I earn as a Lieutenant."

The wide eyes looked up from their downward set. "Do you feel anything for me? Answer my question, yes or no."

Carth was torn between the proper answer and what he actually felt. She was beautiful and given a chance, he would accept, but it was her life before her that was threatened.

"Morgana, as much as I want to say yes, I have to think of you."

"I have just told you that I want no part in their schemes. I want to escape from here. Is that a no?" she challenged.

"If I had a choice I would say yes, but I am a soldier, I must think beyond myself."

She seemed exasperated by his evasion, she stood. For a moment, Carth thought that she would make to leave but instead she ripped off her right glove. The circular burn mark was an angry red against the tanned skin, she sank down into a seat.

"And who would even look at this? I am left with this, Lieutenant, as long as I live. I already have been told that my importance is lessened. Which powerful person would bother to look beyond this before seeking someone younger and prettier?"

"I do not see you as ugly," Carth said. He had had enough, it was her decision and he would go on with it. "I want to know you better Morgana, will you stay here tonight?"

She hesitated, then nodded. "I want to know more about you before I decide," she said softly.

Carth knew that by staying in his room tonight, regardless of what actually happened, she had doomed her chances of living in society. He tried to say as much to her, but she shook her head.

"Forget them. Now stop arguing and come here."

The world swam into focus; early morning light pierced the thick drapes, illuminating the room in a grey haze. Somewhere outside was the sound of people waking and going about their daily lives, the sun shone, lighting up even this dark room. Carth woke, the room was growing lighter, facing the rising western sun and he groaned. Lieutenant Onasi tried to get back to sleep but could not, he sighed; he was tired but he had responsibilities. His eyes flicked to the sleeping form beside him, reminding him of another responsibility he had. She did not wake, she was too tired after last night. The two had sat in the dull lights of the room, making plans like a general gives order, trying to make their situation work. Eventually, with nothing decided, they had slept and now the soldier knew that this day would be the difficult one. It was fine to make proclamations about denying her future but quite another to put them into effect. And how would they react? Would the Governor just let such a valuable pawn be lost to a simple soldier? Carth doubted it, he had grave fears about what would happen this day, but there was still a chance it would work out. A small chance, but Carth had been a soldier long enough to know that a small chance was better than none at all

As he moved to check his chronometer by the bedside, she woke, disturbed by his movement.

"Carth?" she asked sleepily. In deference to her continued self awareness, she still wore the gloves and long clothes, even now.

"We had best be up my dear," he said softly and turned back to her.

"Yes, I suppose so," Morgana agreed softly. "Whatever happens today, I want you to know that I love you."

She had said as much the last night, it still had an effect on the soldier. He had never been told that before and he felt slightly embarrassed still. "And I you Morgana," he said clumsily. His hand felt so course compared to her skin as he brushed her cheek.

The woman smiled, leaned across and kissed him lightly before standing and moving to the bathroom. Having brought no other clothes, she still wore her black clothes. Then she was out of sight as she locked herself in the adjoining room. Carth waited for a moment and then rose and did his best to fix up his hair.

There was a knock on the front door. Carth sighed, this was not what he needed. The soldier pulled on his uniform quickly as the visitor knocked again, louder. Carth moved to the door and pulled it open and stared at his commanding officer. Major Chalmers looked him up and down and nodded.

"Still asleep Lieutenant?" Her voice held a false cheer like she was trying to show an enthusiasm she did not feel.

"No sir, just getting ready," Carth said, girding himself for the coming struggle.

"Are you going to let me in Lieutenant?" she asked placidly.

"Of course sir, come in. What brings you here so early?" he asked.

She seemed not to notice or care his sideways glances or nervous movements. A small corner of her mouth was twitched in what looked to be a very faint smile.

"There has been some considerable turmoil at the palace Lieutenant."

"Really sir?" Carth failed to sound convincing.

"Yes Lieutenant, the Lady Tal'vin is missing." The people fear spies, kidnappers and rapists Lieutenant," Chalmers said softly.

"Perhaps she left on her own," Carth stated weakly.

"Knowing you Lieutenant, she did, Greves told me to keep an eye on you. So, where is she?"

"How do you know she is here?" Carth protested.

"Because I pride myself on having some common sense and brainpower Lieutenant. No more games, where is she?"

The words implied that she did not know whether the younger man had done anything to her. "I assure you sir, she came freely of her own will, I would never-" Carth's anger surprised even himself. He could not imagine himself hurting her or doing anything against her free will.

"Calm Lieutenant, calm," she interrupted.

"Yes sir. Morgana!" he called.

She must have heard everything for she came out as if she expected to see a firing squad waiting for her. She was dressed in her now damp clothes and her hair was drawn back in a haphazard way.

"Major?" she said nervously.

Chalmers smiled and looked from one to the other. "Colonel Greves is a former instructor of mine in the REFC Academy. He is a shrewd man who could be higher up if he so chose. Yet again, I have to admire his foresight."

"Sir?" Carth asked, the Major had not sounded angry or displeased. In fact, she had sounded amused.

"When I received my brief I was slipped a message by him that wagered a week's pay that this would happen. I almost gave up betting with him long ago but I thought I would take the chance here. It seems I owe him nine hundred credits."

"It could be a coincidence that she is here," Carth muttered.

"It could be Lieutenant, but people who sleep in the same bed are usually not in the same room by coincidence.

Morgana's face reddened. "But we did-"

Chalmers cut her off. "That as may be, we have more important things to discuss. Chiefly, what are you going to do now and how is the good Governor going to take it?"

The Lieutenant put a hand onto Morgana's gloved palm, she took it without thought. "I love her Major," Carth said, it was strange it was so difficult to say. Not because he didn't believe it but because he had never said such a thing to another before.

"So I see. So what is your plan? Marriage?" Chalmers asked calmly.

"I think that is the only way. If the military will not allow it than I will resign and go back to Telos."

From her reaction, Chalmers guessed this was the first time that he had discussed such a self sacrifice. She decided to say something before the situation was misunderstood.

"Captain Karath is married Lieutenant, so are a good proportion of the officers in the Republic Military. Some have their spouses fighting in the same organisation. No, it would be hypocritical for the Captain to deny you. Unless it would interfere with your duties."

"It will not." It was Morgana who answered, in place of Carth. Chalmers was a little surprised but nodded just the same.

"So be it, I knew in my heart that this would happen. But would you stay in the Navy, Lieutenant? It is likely that she will not see you much as well as any children you might have will have to grow up without a father."

"For now, I am willing to take that," Morgana answered in place of the Lieutenant again. "He has three months a year and if we decide to live nearer where he serves, it will be more still."

Chalmers nodded slowly, she could raise no objection, the two clearly cared for each other. Whether it would last was anybodies' guess, she made a mental note to ask Greves about what he could do. The Colonel had no dependants, just money that he did not use and property that had been his gift from the Solon family.

"I raise no objection to this. If that is what you want and you understand the consequences, then I wish you luck. I only ask that you let a Republic Military provost do the ceremony. That will make it legal anywhere with no chance of someone trying to break you up."

Carth held his intended bride closer, feeling relief that Chalmers had understood and offered solutions to some of his problems. Morgana's broad, brown eyes looked up into his, then she embraced him briefly before pulling back.

Chalmers just stopped herself smiling at the awkward Lieutenant's response. "However, explaining that to you employers is another matter."

The two lovers looked solemn again and with good reason. Although they could not stop Carth leaving the planet, he was a Republic Officer and his detention would cause a diplomatic incident. However, there was nothing stopping the Governor from simply refusing Morgana permission to leave. She was an Artanin citizen and was thus bound by their laws. And once Carth was gone, they could wreck whatever petty vengeance they chose against the girl who had opposed the ruler.

"Can't I claim protection from the Republic?" she asked, clearly terrified about her possible fate.

"Sadly not. They are your leaders after all and they have treated you well. Even in a Republic court there would be no chance, and any such proceeding will take years. And you know the laws lady, you as the defendant will be separated from him until it ends one way or the other." Chalmers was calm and collected as she spoke, despite the words she spoke.

"So what hope do I have?" she asked bleakly.

"It is not about you, you are just a pawn in their little game. And money isn't the issue either, no, they clearly distinguish themselves from the Republic and they will do what they can to assert themselves. And a victory over you is something they will take pleasure in. After all, they will be breaking no laws and once you are gone Lieutenant, what then? A trumped up charge? Then Lady Tal'vin here will vanish from knowledge and memory."

The girl was actually shivering in fear and holding onto Carth so tightly his hand ached. "I have to try and talk to them," she said in the tone of voice people use when they know it is hopeless.

"I'm afraid so lady," Chalmers said in the most comforting voice she possessed.

The appointment was scheduled for midday, and Carth waited with Morgana in a small room off the Governor's private study. Their appearance, close but not touching, had still caused undue excitement. Chalmers was back in the Republic Embassy, dealing with diplomatic issues, leaving the two alone. The Major had done what she could but in the circumstances it would likely not be enough. Now the two waited, hoping this would not be the last time they were together. Carth had no idea where this sudden flame of love had sprung from but he appreciated it. The night before he had decided to trust Morgana but now he knew he was in love. It was a strange feeling, it was a sudden burst of emotion towards her. Carth knew she meant what she had said and the soldier hoped that this particular ordeal could be over quickly so they could spend at least some time together. He acknowledged he had been a fool but that hardly mattered, younger men than him had fallen in love and he suspected he would not be the last. Carth's only hope was that he would be labelled among those who had succeeded as opposed to those who had failed. Unconsciously, his jaw set; he was not going to leave Morgana here. Even if that meant violating more laws than he had buttons, he did not care. His feelings for her had swept him up so he could not think of her not being with him. In a perverse way, he wanted them to try stop him. He would so like to have a few moment alone with the pompous governor; the man who so threatened his love. Carth's thoughts of revenge were interrupted by the sound of the door to the ante room opening.

"The Governor will see you now," Markov Nal'ar, his haughty face radiating disapproval stood before him. "Lady Tal'vin will go alone," he said smugly when Carth stepped forward.

"I am not going to-" the Lieutenant said, but he relented at a quick squeeze on his hand.

"I am coming Markov," she said blandly and followed the bureaucrat into the room.

Both the Governor and his daughter were waiting as the heavy door closed with a click. Markov bowed and left via a second door, leaving the three alone.

Ailea glared with a violent intensity towards Morgana but, Tralin Yulara appeared not to notice as he wrote on a piece of paper. After a moment of this, he spoke very mildly, like he was discussing botany.

"So, you requested this meeting for what reason Morgana?"

It was a game, a game of guile that Morgana did not know the rules to. She decided to be blunt and get the waiting over. "I am leaving your service."

"Indeed? But why?" Tralin asked in a tone of voice one would use to inquire about another's furniture.

"I am in love," Morgana said bluntly, earning a look of bitterness from Ailea.

Tralin laid down the pen he was using, clasped his hands and looked at her calmly. "Ah yes, Lieutenant Onasi. Rather quick were you not?"

"Is that relevant?"

"It is if he influenced your judgement. I have heard of people, easily impressionable woman who delude themselves that they love another."

"He saved my life, but that is not the reason I love him."

"Well it certainly isn't for his conversation skills. Perhaps it was something altogether more basic yes?"

Morgana's eyes narrowed, "No. I did not sleep with him." She was offended but was aware that that was what Tralin wanted her to do, to react. She determined not to give him the pleasure.

"Really? Then why? You have money, power, a home, certainty here. He is a gutter soldier, a man of no importance. I hope you do love him, because you are not coming crawling back to us."

"It is not really your decision, it is mine. I am telling you as a courtesy and to thank you for what you have done for me. I am not doing it to spite you, I am the only one affected."

"I see, you are quite determined about this. It is certainly within my power to keep you here."

"But why would you want to?" she asked in puzzlement.

"I have spent too long and too much making you what you are, I will not have you throw it away for nothing."

"Then you will have to keep me here by force," Morgana challenged.

"If you insist," Tralin said blandly. "You might serve other purposes then so my loss might be partially recouped."

Morgana had an idea what he meant and it shocked and horrified her, to think that they would consider such a thing was awful. "So are you going to let me leave?"

Tralin breathed out slowly and closed his eyes. "Yes, you may go." Morgana's heart soared, she barely kept an excited smile from her face as he continued. "But remember, from the moment you walk out of this room, you are expunged from our records. If you speak, we shall not answer, you will be dealt with in a manner we see fit. In other words, leave and never return."

Still relieved, though chilled by the words, Morgana nodded. "Thank you." Morgana removed a glove and showed the mark that would scar the flesh forever. "I would never be suitable for another would I?"

"Perhaps you are right. Now go and be thankful we are doing this," Tralin said.

Morgana left father and daughter alone. Ailea turned on Tralin angrily, "Father, why did you let her walk over you like that?"

"I didn't, the worst punishment I could think of would not be worse than to set her up with that soldier. She will die eventually, from his hand or not. And there will come a time when she would want to trade his charm for money I am sure. Leave them Ailea, they are not worth it. Take your anger out on another."

Ailea smiled, some peasant would feel her rage tonight.

It was four days later, Captain Saul Karath, his uniform as dark as his mood stood waiting in Moreau's private office. His bad mood was not any worse than normal, though he was slightly impatient. The Captain was facing a holographic map of the Republic, facing away from the door when there was a hiss of hydraulics. The door opened and there was the sound of a salute.

"Lieutenant Onasi reporting sir," the voice said briskly.

"Well Lieutenant, it seems you can surprise even me. So it is true, the hostage took quite a charm to you. I am sure you will make a fine pair." If it had been said by any of the others on the ship who had said it, Carth would have been complimented. With Saul though, he could never be sure where his words would turn.

"Yes sir," Carth said with his usual wooden precision.

"You have good preparation to marry, Lieutenant. You will find the ability to agree with whatever she says to be a useful talent."

"Yes sir," Carth replied.

"I can't say I agree with your decision, but you have your reasons I am sure. Ensure however, that it does no affect your work for me. If it does…."

"It won't sir," the Lieutenant replied firmly.

"Hmm, they all say that but I am willing to let you try Lieutenant. You have three days, then you will be back in here. I will work your fingers to the bone Lieutenant and should that fail then I shall work them to the marrow. I will not abide slackness in a soldier."

"Of course not sir. This will not disrupt my work."

"I will judge that for myself. Now go Lieutenant, go." As Carth was halfway out the door, Saul called him back. "Lieutenant?"

"Sir?" Carth said, reflecting that the Captain, despite his appearance was actually in a better mood than normal.

"Those Artanin bastards deserved what they got, good work. I've wanted someone to rub their nose in it for a long while. Good work."

Carth did not answer but turned and left.

Gaston Greves had been alive for more than fifty years and yet, in all that time he had never seen two people so close. It brought a smile to even his weathered face to see the two people, whose combined age would not match his, in love. As requested, he had come to their quarters aboard the _Intrepid_, a small room of tasteful fashions. Carth and Morgana sat next to each other, holding one another like they could not bear to be separated; Greves sat opposite them and smiled.

"You made the right decision Carth, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise."

"I know sir, I never expected it to be like this."

The Colonel smirked, they had not had a chance to meet him until now; he had clearly been anticipating the reunion. "I did. I have nine hundred credits from good Major Chalmers to prove it. I could see it though you two could not."

"Yes sir," Carth said, a little distracted.

"You're thinking of the future?" Greves asked and his mood became serious once more.

"Yes sir, Morgana and I have been talking about it. Until I can afford something better, my father has good property on Telos. I think that is the only option."

Morgana nodded gravely, she was starting to realise how much money helped one's life.

Greves nodded, then leaned back with a small smile. "I'm an old man Carth, I have only a few years, or even months before it gets too much and I retire. I have no family, not anymore." He had never told Carth what had happened, but the soldier was wise enough to not ask. "So I have near two hundred thousand credits to my name in a Coruscant bank and it does nothing but earn interest. What am I going to do with it? Even if I journeyed from Coruscant to this ship every month it would take me years to make a dent in it. And when I die, though it may not be for twenty years, the assets will be dissolved and sold."

The old Colonel sipped from a glass of brandy before going on. "But you lad, you and your young woman there are in need of help. I am not as wealthy as Saul Karath or Philippe Daguerre but I have enough for you to start out. I am not helping you because I do not think that you cannot look after her yourself. No, I want my money to do something useful Carth."

"I cannot thank you enough but, but is it right that I-"

"You're a good man Carth, you deserve to have something to go back to. That is why I am making you tenant of any of my properties I own. Choose one and set up there, it is yours. The rest I will gradually liquidate and pay to you as a fixed sum a year."

"It sounds like you had all this planned sir," Carth almost accused.

"In reality, I did Carth. Anyway, it would do me pleasure if you would accept."

Carth Onasi was a suspicious man, he had always been, but after fighting his first proper battle, more so. The Colonel, other than friendship had no reason to help him like this. Therefore, Carth was suspicious of the man's motives. But then he saw his love's face redden in embarrassment, gratitude and relief and he gave in. He kissed Morgana very gently on the cheek, saw her pleasure and decided to risk it.

"Very well Colonel. I accept."

"I see you do not fully trust my motives. I understand Carth, I have been a soldier for longer than you have been alive. I shall not betray you, you only have my word on that."

"Thank you Gaston," Carth said, using the man's name for the first time he could remember.

"The ceremony is in two days Colonel. Do you want to come?" Morgana asked.

"Of course I do, add a chair for me." The Colonel sensed it was time to leave, stood and headed for the door. "I will see you then, I do not expect to see you before then." There was no reply, they barely noticed his absence.

Carth slowly leaned forward and kissed her. And then he forgot everything else as his future bride returned the kiss, moving closer and offering a sly grin.

**I suppose I am sorry if you find the parts about the Republic boring. I want to tell a story, not just a group of fight scenes. Politics is going to become a part of this, that is all I will say. If you do not like that, you will have to skip to the fight scenes. But such incidents are only good in their place.**

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**LV**


	9. Chapter 6

Sorry for the long time away! Busy, busy, busy. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter.

SlayerKite0: Thanks for the review! I am pleased you like it. The Republic parts might be boring but I would rather that than have a string of fight scenes roped together by a few lines of text. Basically, I hope that you can put up with it, and at least notice the effort I put into the piece. And HK isn't around for quite a few years yet, sadly.

Luthe: Funny you should mention Darth Shadow…. Glad you liked the story.

Dark Siders: Always happy to talk to a friend of Alice's. That is the reason I write KOTOR, I can do pretty much what I like to make a story I enjoy. I will continue as much as is possible!

T U: Yes, they are married. Revan is appearing soon, and Bastila is too young to have much part for a while. But she will be in it eventually!

Prisoner24601: I thought that Morgana needed a change from the usual…so I made a new home. Still, I think it turned out alright, I think.

Alice: I like describing and making new things. Other writers are content to use what they have…but I am not. If that makes me dull and boring…so be it, but at least I can feel like I have made something. Typos…yes, I know. Everyone has them, but I try to minimise their impact if I can. I try to be interesting, and I know I can count on your assistance.

Ether-fanfic: Glad you liked it, please continue to review!

Lord Satasn: Star Wars is not just for Jedi and Sith, remember the Original Movies? No, there are three main groups I focus on; the Sith, the Republic and the Jedi. The Republic is a vital part, and I do try not to make it boring. I maintain that battles only have use if the reader knows about the build up and result.

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Chapter 6

The door into the plain room opened, causing the seated man to frown. Normally such a commonplace action would not have caused such a reaction; this time was different though. There was nobody standing by the door and it took nearly half a minute before a visitor entered the room. He looked at the bald headed, tattooed man with a small smile.

"Something interesting Malak?" Revan asked with more than a little amusement.

The disapproving frown deepened. "You said you would stop such displays."

Revan smiled very faintly and waved his hand, the door slid shut with a hydraulic hiss.

"Do calm down my friend. I assure you that I have not been corrupted yet."

Malak glared and then pointedly looked down at his research. The seated man disapproved of such blatant uses of the force for trivial matters. Not just because he had been told thus, but because he fervently believed in the ideals of a Jedi. There were few in the Order who could match such a firm belief in the lightside; Malak was a paragon of the ways of the Jedi. From his simple Jedi robe to his basic underclothes, Malak was the embodiment of humility.

Despite this, three years of close friendship had not rubbed any of this off onto Revan. As his twenty fifth birthday approached, Revan was still the same man he had been six years before, although certain aspects had changed. His calm and collected personality remained, though it was occasionally spotted with bouts of icy cold mood swings. Many of his fellow Jedi considered that this was some sort of deep reaching mental disorder but Revan had never shown anything when he had been examined. In truth, Revan was in many ways the perfect Jedi; he had no vices to speak of and his desire to knowledge as well as his sense of duty made him a great asset. In other ways though, he was an outsider from his peers and the Jedi Masters. He was opinionated, not vocally, but held many strange ideas about topics the Jedi did not usually consider. On top of this, he was proud of, or as some would say, arrogant in his command of the force. It was not that he used his powers wrongly, it was that he used them continually, even for minor things such as opening doors or activating lights. And despite all efforts to discourage him, he persisted. It had one great advantage though: it meant that he had an almost unmatched instinctive command of the force, even if he was no fighter.

"So what have you discovered?" Revan asked to mollify his friend.

Malak sighed and pointed to the notes he had on the table. "All evidence seems to suggest it is somewhere out here near the furthest border with the Sith space. It is a neutral system as laid down by the Treaty of Ithor, probably because no one wanted it."

"Does the system have a name?" Revan asked thoughtfully.

"Xhartque," Malak read the strange word with difficulty. "That is the one laid down here by the explorers."

"Is this right? It says the planet orbits a neutron star?" Revan could not believe it. On the star chart though, it was laid out clearly; the system had both a neutron star and a class five star. It was clear that the planet would be cold despite its closeness to the centre of the solar system. Revan wondered how a planet could even orbit a neutron star but dismissed the question as irrelevant, since he needed to worry about more serious things.

The door slid open again to reveal the worn face of Jedi Knight Mirar Levarne who nodded recognition before closing the door.

"Have we discovered anything?" she asked in a calm, authoritative voice that Revan respected in a way he did no other. As senior Padawan and thus close to their knighthoods, Malak and Revan had been put beneath the same master. It was a good arrangement as it ensured that a very close relationship developed between the three Jedi.

"Yes Master. Malak may have found what we are looking for."

What they were looking for, Mirar reflected it had been a long road to this moment as well as a considerable number of fighting to gather the pieces to this puzzle. This whole mess had started just over three months ago when a Republic search team had uncovered some sort of ancient object in the excavations on the mining world of Ko'cav. It had been given over to the nearby Jedi base on Morlock Four after it could not be identified. The Jedi had in turn sent it back to Coruscant who had passed it on to Mirar Levarne and her two students. After a half dozen missions and deals with many shady characters, Malak seemed to finally have found an answer.

The artefact lay before them, a small black stone disk about three inches wide, slightly raised on top and bottom to resemble a spinning top. Over all the edges and even on the sides were characters marked into the black material. "Although it looked similar to metal or stone, it wasn't. The material's composition was unknown."

One thing that the three Jedi could not fail to notice was a slight aura around the disk. A faint aura of dark power, almost invisible to even the strongest of Jedi. Whatever the device was, it had seen the darkside before.

Malak flipped over the disk to show a series of runes separated by lines. Only a single rune was displayed in each of the boxes that covered the surface of the thing.

"If you look at this, you can see that there is a rune that is repeated four times. Of course, that could mean anything until I remembered something I had seen in the archives similar to this." Malak pulled out a large flat datapad and activated it to show a tablet that was similar despite the obvious difference in condition. The scanned object had had to be reconstructed and looked far older than this disk, but many of the characters were similar.

"But how does this help us?" Mirar asked after examining the two objects closely.

"It wouldn't, if it were not for the fact that some of these older glyphs were translated." Malak showed a second exhibit that had the glyphs at the top and a translation below.

"This was discovered just over a century ago. The language is an ancient dialect of Zahil'li which I was able to translate."

"The race that lived on Dantooine? The ones with the burial mounds?" Revan asked, cutting off his comrade.

Malak gave him an odd look, "And how did you know that?"

"Dantooine is not so far away from my home Malak. And in the archives here I learned about the area around my homeworld. This race's name stuck in my head." The Zahil'li were a long dead race of bipeds from Dantooine. A Republic expedition had investigated tombs and found traces of another, older culture in the ruins. The work had been interrupted by Exar Kun's was, and the research forgotten, except to Malak.

"So what have you found out Malak?" Mirar asked to move things along. She, along with almost everyone else had given up calling the two Jedi anything other than their titles. Even Master Vrook or Master Vandar could not move them from this.

Giving Revan another odd look, Malak compared the two sets of symbols. Finally he looked up. "I have found what these words mean. It's mostly fragments, but what is mentioned here is the 'globes of fire and ice'. Now that really means very little, but reading back through similarly dated messages from the Zahil'li, there are a few references to this place."

"How long ago was this?" Mirar asked.

"The dating says at least twenty thousand years but I am not certain that is right."

"That is five millennia older than the Republic," Revan murmured thoughtfully. "And the disk? Is that later?"

"Hard to say but the symbols are contemporary with these finds."

"I see, but who was it who wrote these symbols? A galactic overlord race?" Revan was quite in his own thoughts now.

"That is not important, what is important is can we find this place? If it is so long ago, any references will be vastly out of date."

Malak nodded seriously. "It is never said where this place is, but several references are given. It seems to have been of great importance to these people."

"And do the locations match up?" Revan asked, snapping out of his daze.

Malak nodded and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully as he brought up a holographic map of the galaxy. "It pinpoints the location, once I have taken star movement into account as on this planet. Xhartque."

Mirar was quiet for a long moment, she was not entirely sure what to make of this whole business. She had expected a dead end but the two Padawans were stubborn, stubborn to the core. Now she had to convince herself and the council to go, and it would not be easy.

"How certain are you?" she asked calmly.

"Until I get there Master, there is no guarantee. It all fits though, the distances once drift is taken into account and the description of the planet. It is worth investigating." Malak was formal as he normally was; he clearly believed what he had said.

"Very well then, we shall go. What are we looking for there?" She was amazed she had not asked herself that question. It was dubious enough evidence even before she considered what the prize was."

Revan decided to speak for his friend, "It makes reference to something called the 'Daemon's Heart'. Other than that, I have no clue."

"Be ready to go then, I will run this over with Master Vandar."

"We will be ready Master."

Two members of the Jedi High Council were available to meet with Mirar Levarne. Masters Vandar and Perinard sat in the small meeting room awaiting her arrival. If she was honest with herself, Mirar was surprised that the two oldest and most powerful members of the council had chosen to see her. She pushed the thought aside as she bowed to them, keeping her face resolute and calm.

"You requested this meeting Jedi Levarne?" Aetius Perinard asked, his odd silver eyes boring into her.

"Yes Masters I did. As you know, we were given a task by the High Council to examine the relic found on Ko'cav."

"And have you made progress in your studies?" Vandar asked in his strangely soothing voice.

"Yes Master, my two Padawans believe they have found out the meaning of the strange symbols. It seems to be a marker towards a world on the outer rim, an uninhabited world near the border with the Sith Empire."

"And how did they work out the symbols? Our research teams on Morlock Four could not decipher those same glyphs." Master Perinard raised one eyebrow as though seeking an explanation.

"They tell me they could not by just looking at the relic. What they did say is that they found something akin to a translator that led them to understand the words."

She must have sounded uncertain because Vandar held out a hand. "Bring them here. We will talk with them directly."

As the Jedi Knight left to collect her students, Aetius looked at his fellow Jedi Master.

"I shall be interested to see how they interpreted the symbols."

"More important is why we are attaching so much significance to this quest. Something about that relic is not right." The diminutive Jedi fell silent as the two men entered.

Revan was wearing a dark blue robe, similar to the one the Master Vandar wore but with a black stripe down the front. Both Malak and Mirar Levarne were wearing the traditional brown of the Jedi Order.

"Padawan Morantine, Padawan Tsrvarn, I hear you have interpreted the symbols?"

Vandar's mind flicked back. The artefact had been found lying in a small fissure of the rock as though it had been abandoned. It was ancient but seemed not a day over a year old. Even after all these centuries, the old Jedi Master had sensed the power of the force in it. His attempts to understand it had been foiled, so he had passed it on to the two young Padawans. Of all of the younger students of the Order, there were few that worked together so well at unravelling a mystery. Revan, as even the Jedi Master was starting to call him, was the more intelligent but Malak was persistent and logical. Together, they formed a team unlike any their own age.

"Yes Master. Padawan Malak managed to decipher the code. If I may?" he asked his friend. Malak was all too happy to obey, he was a man of fewer words than his friend and was not a good person to inspire others with words.

"Looking through the records that we have found Master," Revan went on, "we have found something very interesting. The relic is somewhere in the region of twenty thousand standard years old, perhaps more."

"Are you quite sure of this Padawan?" Master Perinard challenged.

Revan met the disconcerting gaze without flinching. "I am certain Master. The analysis machines could not figure out the exact composition of the artefact but they could when matched with the other pieces. The way we could work out what the glyphs meant is by this."

Revan drew out the datapad showing the tablet with the two languages. He showed them the two before going on.

"The bottom language is one we can figure out. By transposing them up and making sense of the words, we can match them to the relic."

Ah, like the Rosetta stone.

The Jedi Masters nodded, clearly impressed. "I am pleased you sought to discover alternative means to understand this problem young Padawans.

"Thank you Master, though it was Padawan Malak who deserves the most credit. The stone on these tablets has been dated at around twenty five millennia. Since these symbols are not ones known of in the Republic, the relic cannot be less than fifteen millennia as the mining world was colonised about that time. Working from this translation, we were able to use the landmarks near to find a central point. A single location."

"This is interesting indeed," Perinard murmured. "And you desire permission to investigate why this system is being pointed to?"

"I believe it would be advisable Master," Revan said, quite ignoring his Master.

"Then the three of you shall go. There is one thing you might want to be careful of. If it is close to the Sith Empire then there is a chance that it may be patrolled by their ships. You might wish to check with the Republic forces out there before you go in closer."

"I thank you for your advice Masters, we shall follow your words," Revan said. Mirar Levarne glared at the back of Revan's black haired head but made no comment at the usurpation of her influence.

"What is the name of the system?" Vandar asked.

"Xhartque Master," Revan said.

The two Jedi Masters shared a glance. "If that is so, be doubly careful," Master Perinard said.

"During the war with Exar Kun, there were rumours that that system was being used as a base by the Sith. We sent a team of Jedi to investigate, they never returned. A larger force was sent but no enemy was detected and there was no time to search. Be careful, not all dangers are caused by a visible opponent."

Revan nodded, intrigued. "Yes Master."

Padawan Revan walked back swiftly towards his own room. His expression was cold and hard, and showing nothing to those who passed as he strode past them. There was nothing unusual in this however; most Jedi avoided the stern, strangely dressed Padawan who seemed so focussed on another time and place. Eventually, he reached his room and opened the door with a wave of his hand. The Council, his peers, and his Master disliked such blatant uses of the force for trivial matters. Revan did not care; they were most likely envious of his abilities and jealous because he could call upon his powers so much easier than they. Revan closed the door to the room he no longer shared with Malak or anyone else; the room that was solely his.

As his Master had dryly pointed out, the room suited him; everything was lined up immaculately, with nothing out of place. Revan pulled out the pack he had acquired on a mission a year before and pushed his spare robe and his other travelling gear into it. Then, he looked to where his lightsabre sat on the desk, missing the power cell which he always removed so it could not be used against him by an intruder. He had no cause to be so suspicious but he was, nonetheless, a cautious man.

Reaching out his hand, he felt the thrill he always did when he called upon the telekinetic power inside of him. It sounded like a distant ringing trumpet call in his mind, and he wanted to hear it clearer but could not. Always, the clarion call died away, no matter what he did. The thrill of power remained though; he could not see why the Jedi ignored their gifts. The lightsabre hovered over his hand, he grasped the weapon and swiftly reassembled it. He was ready.

Malak was waiting outside in the hallway, the huge man's height like a great statue looking down on Revan. Malak was four inches again over Revan's six feet, a huge man with the strength to match his height, a man who used strength, not subtlety to win.

"You are late," the bald man stated blandly.

"Perhaps you were just early?" Revan suggested lightly, earning a sideways glance from his friend.

"So, what has made you so happy?"

"The thought of finding if our research is in vain. I would also like to find out what this Daemon's Heart is."

"We should be wary as the Masters said, since it is likely to be dangerous. If the relic is anything to go by, then this place is likely to be a bastion of the darkness."

"That is possible. Perhaps the finding of it will promote us to being full Knights."

Malak looked appalled, "I am not doing this because of that reason. I am going and, if necessary, fighting beside you, because it is the right thing to do. A Jedi does not seek power, only justice."

Revan sighed, knowing he had walked into a lecture. "You are right of course. Come, we are expected." Miraculously, Malak said no more, perhaps waiting for the long trip to harass his friend.

Their Master was waiting by their ship, a twenty foot converted fighter and freighter that had been their device of choice for the last few months. It was a sleek black craft originally of naval design that was agile and protected enough for them to escape a dangerous situation. On the side, by the cockpit was engraved a name, _Spirit of Ossus_ in memory of the former Jedi base destroyed in the Sith War.

"We have a departure permit so we should get going," Mirar greeted them and walked up the side boarding ramp. The two men followed, strapping themselves into the rearward seats.

"I have sent off a message to meet with the local military representative to see if anything is happening around this area. We should get there a few hours after the message." Messages were usually only slightly faster than ships because they still replied on hyperspace movement.

"Understood Master. Are you going to pilot?"

"You believe that I am not capable Revan?" she asked lightly.

Revan, for all of his occasional arrogance was still liable to take some comments at face value. Thus he could sometimes not grasp that his Master was not serious, he bowed his head slightly.

"I would not suggest such a thing Master." His accent and formality, slowly going over the years suddenly became stronger.

Mirar Levarne never knew what to do in these circumstances, so she smiled, "No Revan. I was not trying to offend you. It's just, well never mind."

"Yes Master, my apologies."

Malak frowned at the whole display but said nothing.

"Set coordinates for Taramooren," Levarne ordered to Revan who moved into the co-pilot's seat.

"Agreed Master, activating engines."

The ship slowly lifted off the ground, the twin engines flared as the Jedi Temple slowly grew smaller and smaller. Then, under the guns of the Coruscant Defence Fleet and Port Authority, _The Spirit of Ossus_ sped out to the prearranged destination and activated its hyperspace. The ship vanished, it was not missed by the thousands of other ships going about their daily business.

Taramooren was the main meeting ground between Republic and Troiken forces. It was a system with a half dozen rocky and barren worlds which served as a nexus between the three nations; Sith, Republic and Troiken. Although the latter two nations were close allies, diplomacy prevented military forces being stationed in sovereign Troiken territory. The Republic had got around this by spreading the three sector fleets of Admiral Nivelle's Third Fleet along the border of the Republic, a third of which was opposite Troiken Space. Thus, in the event of an invasion and the inevitable call for assistance, the Republic could have substantial forces to defend their friends within hours. It was a good arrangement and many systems such as Taramooren had been set up as combined training and meeting grounds between the two nations. The Third Fleet was considered a prime placement for young officers despite the nearness to the old enemy of the Sith. Troiken was not a large nation; a score of colonised systems and the same again of outposts. It was however, the oldest ally of the Republic, its ships were mainly of Republic design and its crews and soldiers trained in Republic schools and academies. They were, nonetheless, fiercely independent and the Republic was wise enough to know that antagonising their friends was not the path to success.

The main military bastion in Taramooren was a large station orbiting the fourth world, a joint nation place guarded by a Republic cruiser group.

On the bridge of the station, amid the bustle, a communications technician called out to an officer waiting behind him. "Sir? Lieutenant sir?"

"What is it Corporal?" the Second Lieutenant, his black hair uncovered by a cap asked.

"The Jedi ship is just coming in sir. You wanted to be notified when they did?"

"Where are they docking Corporal?" the Lieutenant asked briskly.

"Docking bay six, sir."

"Very well. Tell Captain Vair that I am down there."

"Understood sir," the man acknowledged and picked up his communicator to relay the message.

It was about ten minutes later when Second Lieutenant Julius Solon walked into the docking bay. The last few months had been good for him, he had a good position with copious good company. Already, his mixture of antics and hard work had earned him notice from several senior officers. Now, because these Jedi were here by the direct request of the Order and because they would be going through Troiken Space, Solon was here. He was here to talk to them, give them the information they wanted and then move them on as quickly as possible. The last thing anyone wanted was a band of Jedi getting in the way.

Solon frowned; he did not like the Jedi with their supercilious arrogance and mysterious half-truths. It was true that there were many soldiers in the same mould but at least they were under firm discipline. In short, Julius Solon was not a fan of the Order.

The door opened to reveal the now pressurised hanger bay; electron interface screens were still expensive and not common on stations not in the main concentration areas. Taramooren should have been changed though, but there had been neither the money, nor the will for the refit. Facing Solon was a wide expanse of grey deck on which the Jedi's ship sat silent. He moved forward towards the three figures walking towards him. It had been years since he had met members of the Order, but that impression had been lasting and not exactly positive.

The lead Jedi was a woman, the oldest and obviously the senior of the three. She bowed, "Lieutenant, I am Jedi Knight Levarne."

The voice was slightly less cold than he remembered from his last meeting with a Knight. Solon saluted, "I am pleased to be acquainted with you. I am Second Lieutenant Julius Solon sir." The 'sir' was almost choked off but he controlled himself and tried to sound normal.

Jedi Levarne seemed not to notice, "Lieutenant Solon, we require information as was signalled ahead."

So she was just like the others, Solon though bitterly. "Of course sir, if you would care to head this way. Does your ship need supplies?"

"No Lieutenant," the Knight answered and strode on.

Solon stayed at the rear and unexpectedly, one of the Padawans stayed with him.

"Solon? As in Duke Datus Solon?" the man asked. He had piercing blue eyes and ebony black hair so dark that Solon's seemed bright compared.

"Yes sir. You have the advantage over me. You are sir?" Solon asked, resigned to another round of Jedi arrogance.

"You need not call me sir, Lieutenant. Only those who have rank deserve that. I am Padawan Revan."

Solon, a well educated man frowned, "Ghost? I cannot imagine the Jedi approve."

"They have given up trying to dissuade me, Solon," he said, deliberately using the man's name.

For his part, the Lieutenant was surprised that the formal sounding Jedi was bantering with him. "So where is your destination exactly," he bit off the honorific just in time.

Revan seemed amused. "I am not supposed to tell you. However, since you will be wanting exact details, I shall anyway. Xhartque, right on the border of Sith Space and the void."

Solon was surprised, despite his seeming inability to speak normally, the Jedi was being courteous to him. "We have that place under constant monitoring but we swept it last week just to be sure. There are no large scale forces or ion trails around it, there may be smaller ships coming and going but nothing more."

"That is good," Revan said, thinking hard.

"So, what are you looking for there?"

The Jedi turned a small look on the Lieutenant. "That I cannot tell you. What I will say though is that whether the Sith have been there is of great importance."

Solon nodded, "I was authorised by Commodore Milstidus to have a cruiser group stand by in the event of a large scale incursion. Captain Hetig is awaiting word on the Republic's closest border to the system."

"Thank you Lieutenant Solon. You have been very helpful. I do not think we need to trouble your commanding officer with our concerns. However, we would appreciate somewhere to rest overnight."

"Of course. I will have my second show you to them."

Revan turned back to his Jedi Master, "The Lieutenant says there has been no major incursions for months. Small ships might get through, but only one at a time. We have nothing to worry about."

Levarne was slightly piqued that she had been overridden, but controlled herself. "That is good Padawan. Lieutenant, do we have accommodation?"

Solon, with the air of a diplomat, brushed aside the commanding words effortlessly. "Of course, sir. Ensign, show them the guest rooms."

As Solon turned to leave, Revan put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay a moment Lieutenant if you will," he said as his two companions walked away.

"Of course, Revan. What can I do for you?"

Revan was silent for a long moment, he frowned. "You do not like Jedi. Why?" Solon scowled and Revan cut in before he could make a voluble protest. "I did not and indeed cannot read your thoughts. I see it in your eyes."

Solon sighed, "I suppose I don't really. My reasons are my own."

"We do not support the Republic. That is why, yes?" Revan said distantly.

Solon looked at Revan is surprise and a little anger, "How did you now that?"

Revan stood and looked at the seated man. "Because it is the truth."

Then he was gone, and Solon stared after the retreating man with the ebony hair and the strange robe. Second Lieutenant Solon decided he needed a drink, a large one, so he walked slowly back to his room.

It would take three days to travel the relatively small distance from Taramooren to the shadowy realm of Xhartque. It would take an additional three days by Revan's calculations to reach the right planet. Neither Revan or Levarne had flown anywhere near a neutron star before, and they needed to be cautious of the massive gravity and radiation potential. To the bare eyes, it seemed merely a glowing ball like a star's core without the corona. Levarne put the ship's shields to the highest non-battle level and accelerated forward. Once the course was set they had a few hours with nothing to do but wait. Mirar Levarne called Revan back into the crew quarters, leaving Malak on watch. The Jedi Knight seemed out of sorts today, usually she never showed nervousness before going into danger. And that, Revan guessed, was the reason for her private talk.

"Are you feeling unwell Master?" Revan asked in his patient, formal voice.

His Master frowned, in truth she was not feeling well. Mirar had never considered herself soft, but today she was feeling decidedly edgy. During the long trip where she had had nothing to do but wait, she had finally enough time to think. She had looked at Revan and known that she had failed. She had failed because she had done nothing to help him, not really. He would succeed or fail, live or die by his own choices, not because of her. When she had taken the boy in some eight years ago she could never have imagined that he would be so remarkably unchanged despite her efforts. Mirar suddenly felt very tired, she worried she had not been good enough for her student and perhaps she hadn't.

"Master? What is it?" Her eyes looked up into the stern but also worried eyes of Revan.

"I want you to remember Revan, when I am gone, that you will remember what I have taught you."

He cocked his head to the side, "You see your own death," it was a statement.

Mirar was not quite sure if that was true, though she had had enough dreams recently. If she was honest with herself, she knew that the last dream was a picture of her demise. She felt like shaking her head, but nodded instead. "I suppose I have."

Revan inclined his head marginally, "Yes. I suspected as much. We have an appointed time and place Mirar. I do not fear my death because I cannot change my destiny. Therefore I shall not hold back. The greatest fear a soldier has is not death, but the fear of death."

Levarne looked at her charge, he often said strange things but nothing quite like this. It wasn't that he didn't care about his or the death of others, he just blandly did not see it as important.

"And how would you know Revan?" she asked softly.

"I am convinced of it Master. If I see proof that it is not then I will change my view. All I can do, is do what I can in the time I have."

"I have never seen fate as fixed."

"There is no way to prove either way. Though my belief may be false, I shall cling to it. Do you fear your death Mirar?"

The Jedi Knight looked at him again. "Do not we all?"

"I know that I do," Revan said solemnly. "If you did not wish to come Master…."

"No Revan. It is my duty. Fear leads only to darkness. People resent what they fear and that turns to anger and anger is the flame that starts us down the path to darkness."

"I shall stand beside you as long as I am able Master," Revan said with a strange calm.

"Thank you, Revan." The Jedi seemed to get a grip on herself, "Enough Revan. These thoughts are not worth considering, we must have no doubt about tomorrow."

The younger man nodded, "As you wish, Master." Revan, for the first time she could remember, seemed at a loss. "You are the closest thing I ever had to family, now at least."

Mirar smiled at the awkward words, and reached out a hand to her student. "It has been a pleasure to have you beside me Revan. I know you will not disappoint me, if you keep by the light then you can only triumph."

"I shall not fail," Revan said softly, then left the room. The older Jedi Knight sat for a moment, she had not succeeded with her methods so it would be up to Revan to succeed. She hoped he had the will and the strength to prevail where she could not have. The premonition, a sure sign from the force assailed her, a flashing red line, then darkness. Her eyes closed briefly, then she forced herself upright and moved into the cockpit of the ship. She had an enigma to unravel.

Xhartque loomed before the three Jedi. The great red surface stretched across the planet whilst opposite it was the cold blue shape of the neutron star. It was small, as small as so many other stars in the vast galactic wastes, but it was still different. The odd blue shape was playing havoc with some of the sensors on the Jedi's craft. Radiation and gravity was impossible to determine as they drew nearer, it seemed certain that the planet's surface would be lethal to them. Off to the other side was the comforting shape and light of the other system's star. A class five yellow star pulsed out its corona of light as the ship neared the blasted planet.

"Where are we heading? We cannot search the whole planet," Mirar stated as she slowed the _Spirit of Ossus_ and entered orbit.

"According to the map we have here, there is a strange series of spires ahead. They do not appear to be natural, like some sort of building."

"Good, we will start there. There is a wide area in front of it, I am starting landing sequence."

Mirar was a good pilot, but this was hardly a difficult takedown. They were in a canyon where the walls loomed three hundred feet on either side above them. There was a wide circular area though, blasted from the rock of one cliff wall to form a parade ground like space. Ten thousand men could have ranked up by battalions and yet not been crowded. Before the Jedi, and utterly dwarfing them, was a building. It was built into the rock, and entrances and terraces could be seen right to the very pinnacle. A great door stood at the top of a flight of steps, guarding the way into the building.

To the utter surprise of the Jedi, the air was breathable and not permeated with radiation. Still, taking precautions was wise, so each of the three adventurers wore filtration masks and carried radiation sensors in case conditions changed. Dust lay deep upon the ground, not a vagary of air disturbed the land. It was as though the planet was frozen into stasis and left to decay through the passage of time. The flagstones beneath the Jedi were still solid, showing that nothing odd had happened to disturb the geology of the planet. Before he reached the stairs, Revan looked up to see the strange, cold blue eye of the neutron star above him, then he turned away.

The doors were twice as high as even Malak was tall, and there was no easily recognisable ways to open it. No handles or controls were visible as they studied the surface intently. The doors were engraved with runes and glyphs similar to the ones used on the relic but were so worn down they could not be read. It seemed that something must have caused the erosion; Revan supposed it had to be sandstorms.

"So how do we open them?" Malak asked. He tapped the doors but found them solid.

"I see no obvious way, but there has to be a method, logically," Revan said calmly.

There was a flash of green as Revan activated his blade and drove it into the stone. With some difficulty he cut a few inches before pulling back. "The door is too strong," he stated with only a hint of frustration.

"Wait, think Revan. Consider longer before attacking," Mirar chided gently.

The Jedi Knight knelt down by the doors and closed her eyes. She focussed and controlled her mind until she was directing her full attention at the door. As it always did, the world seemed to blur and appear before her closed eyes. Normally inert matter was like dark shadows whilst living material glowed from within. Now however, there was a barely perceptible skein of misty red before her, evidence of some underlying corruption of the darkness. Mirar fought the temptations of the place, the urge to lose control and draw the power about herself, she concentrated. The door had been built with force sensitive visitors in mind. As she looked at the door, white, glowing lines seemed to appear before her eyes, tracing invisible paths on the rock. After a moment it was complete, two glyph hung circles were visible through her force sense, forming about four feet off the ground. Mirar was not a great force user, she had no where near the durability of many in the Order. Just before she blanked out, she pulled herself back to the real world.

Without regaining her balance she threw herself upright and at the door. Her hands pressed the invisible circles, then she sagged. The doors creaked and rumbled, then they split open. Revan helped his Master upright, holding her until her vision came back.

"Are you alright?" he asked a little more informally than usual, always a sign he was worried.

"I'm fine, Revan, please, let us go on."

The space before the three Jedi was massive. It should have been pitch black but was oddly illuminated with a bluish radiance. If that was strange, then the city around them was unique. It seemed to go all the way to the top of the canyon far above. It was a wonder and none of them had heard or seen anything like it before. It was as if a vast stone metropolis had first been buried underground, then riven with mighty chasms. Revan could not believe that the exterior canyon wall looked as it did, what with so much tunnelled and ground out from the inside of the mountain. A mighty processional way, nearly thirty yards across, would have lead across a vast gulf to a building beyond. The bridge was broken however; sixty yards had been torn from it, far too far to get across. The other side had a wide stair leading up to a plinth like alter. The alter was enshrouded by a blue light, suggesting some sort of force field, guarded the secrets. To left and right, all the way up to the roof was a mass of stone walkways, most broken by whatever had shattered the roadway. It was clear that the only way across would be to play a tense game of chance with the paths. Three doors waited invitingly for the three Jedi, two to the right and one to the left. Mirar had mostly recovered her balance and looked around.

"Something is over there, whatever lies on that must be important. There are three doors, we must take one each but be careful. Can you not feel the power of the dark side here?"

"Should we not stay together then?" Revan asked in a hushed tone.

Mirar looked at him. She wanted to say yes, would do anything to protect her student, no matter how wrong it was. And yet, she could not. They had to learn to fend for themselves in such a situation, for she would not be their Master forever. So she shook her head.

"No Revan, though the taint may be strong, you must deal with it with your own mind. I cannot help you forever."

"Yes Master. Malak, can you not feel the energy in this place?"

Malak nodded. "Yes, it is strong, we must be wary. If what we seek is as powerful as we think, it may be a beacon for the darkness."

"Then be careful, I will go left, go right Padawans. Keep in contact with each other."

"Master, who built this place?" Revan asked in wonder.

"I do not know, but your detective skills served you well. Perhaps we will find a clue on the far side."

"May the force be with you, Master."

"And with you my friends."

Mirar Levarne walked cautiously through the steep passage. Her weapon was held ready but not ignited, she expected to be attacked by something. Light was oddly not a problem, since the walls were set with some sort of power light which gave off a soft blue glow. How it was still working after countless centuries was a puzzle for the Jedi. The scent of the dark side was still around and increasing as she moved on further.

She was in a steeply sloped stone passage that ran up to a forking corridor at the top. Moving as silently as she could, Mirar peered around the corner to see two long passageways stretching off in opposite directions. To the right was the open air but Mirar was not ready for that yet, she wanted to be cautious and learn as much as possible about this place before she charged forward. Heading left, she passed through a long passage set with more of the glow lamps until she reached the end and turned right. The yellowy grey stone seemed full of shadows as she walked along and it took all of the Jedi's willpower not to turn and see if she was being followed.

At last she came to a wide room, almost square and about twenty foot high. The interesting thing was that the surface of the room was actually six feet below her, mirrored on the far side. To the far right, only a few feet below the room was a small crawl way but there was no obvious access to it. On the actual surface of the room, the surface was covered with a green slime, mixed in with stone blocks fallen from the roof. And then, there was the skeleton, a human skeleton. Mirar gaped at it, whoever had built this complex was not human, but here lay a pile of bones with a few scraps of cloth scattered around it. Mirar jumped down and walked across the floor to the long dead body, she had a sinking feeling that it was one of the lost Jedi. Mirar knelt by the figure but after all this time the bone was fragile and crumbled before her probe. The Jedi frowned, surely skeletons did not crumble after only twenty years?

She leant over to look at the scraps of cloth. The movement saved her life, something flew over her head and struck the far wall. Mirar rolled aside and came up with weapon raised. It was no enemy she faced but the room itself. A second jet of some liquid that appeared to be some sort of acid sprayed at her and the Jedi reeled backwards. A few drops burnt through her robes and onto her skin like they were not there. Then, in case her predicament was not bad enough, the two doors closed. With a grinding of stone on stone, the doors slid shut and locked, leaving the Jedi woman trapped inside. The room started to darken as the lights went out one by one.

Revan moved cautiously down the next corridor, it looked like the others but he had carefully marked the places he had been so he would know if he got lost. His datapad he used as a temporary map and his lightsabre, he used as a chisel on the walls. After a half hour or so, Revan came to a turning that would take him out over the endless depths. However, there was an obstacle, a rectangular room with a door faced him. It was open to the sky, a room with no walls or roof. Clearly, this had once been a straight second route across the chasm, but now it served only as a barrier. In front of the door was a statue; alabaster white and strangely shaped. It had a long bulbous head, fishy hands and feet and was covered all over with representations of armour. Revan approached it but as he neared, the impossible happened, it lifted its head. The thing chatted something to him in a mechanical tone of voice but Revan could not understand it. It spoke again, more threatening and Revan knew it was no mere machine but something entirely different. Then, the Jedi remembered the words, perhaps the golem like creature would understand Zahil'li. Revan pulled his translator free and fiddled with the controls; he had thoughtfully entered the language into his machine's memory and now he was thankful for that.

Revan used the translator to ask if it spoke the language he used. There was silence for a moment, then it spoke in an archaic but understandable version of Zahil'li.

"Who are you that uses the language of the slaves?"

"I am a slave to no man," Revan said arrogantly.

The golem seemed to look at him for a moment. "You are unknown to me, creature. What business do you have in the temple of the Black Heart?"

"I came because of this," Revan said and held up a reconstruction of the relic. Mirar had kept the original as it was potentially dangerous to her young Padawan..

The golem made a small chuckling sound. Revan was not sure what the creature was. It couldn't be alive, for surely nothing could have lived here for so many centuries. It was not a droid either because it was clearly animated by more than mere machinery. So what was it?

The golem interrupted his thoughts before he could ask. "I sense the power coming from you. Why did the Masters send such a creature such as you?"

"How did you find me?"

"I was guided to you by the energy you exude, the true power of the Builders."

"The Builders?" Revan asked.

"Do not jest with me, mortal. You know who we are, though I sense defiance in you. So the slaves come to beg aid of the masters, do they?"

"Why would they do that? Who are these slaves of whom you speak?"

"The Empire has many slaves but few leaders. Why are you here? Speak quickly."

"I came, guided by the disk."

"You seek to bow before the Heart? Or do they beg to release it once more? They told me they would return. Are you here on their behalf?"

"I know not of what you speak. This disk is twenty thousand years old." Revan thought for a moment, "Two hundred revolutions of the outermost planet."

Revan knew it was no droid and that the creature knew of the force. Fire blazed in its eyes, literally; it was a terrifying sight to see the white statue turn shadowy grey. The force flowed from it like mist off a winter lake.

"Impossible! We are invincible! The Builders shall never fall!" It turned on Revan who had drawn his weapon, the Jedi belatedly realised that he had said the wrong thing. "They abandoned me here, alone to guard the Heart. They betrayed me but I shall avenge myself."

"Who are you?" Revan asked, wondering just what was going on. The creature's skin was near black, Revan licked his lips as the golem answered.

"Pitiful creature. I am the Guardian of the Heart, the key of our power. You have awoken me where they did not dare. They came and left me here. They said the Heart was corrupting them so they left me here to guard it, they said they would return."

Before Revan could say another word, the creature drew a huge blade, blue-silver and looking as new as the day it had been made. Revan activated his own blade as the mad golem moved in for the kill.

Malak prided himself on knowing what he was doing at all times. Now, however, he was confused. Every time he headed down a passage, he got even more lost. He was certain that the walls were closing silently behind him but he could sense nothing strange nor see anything odd in the stonework. Finally, he came to the end of the passage, he was sure he had been here before. He tried to raise Revan on his comm link but something was blocking the transmissions. There was the faint noise, and the Jedi turned to see his worst fear confirmed. He was shut in. The bald headed man waited for an opponent to capitalise on his weakness, but none was forthcoming. Was he to be trapped here until he starved? Malak knew the walls were solid stone, he could not cut through them without burning his weapon out. Malak was just about to resort to using a demolition bomb when the path before him mysteriously opened again. The Jedi activated his blue blade and walked out of the hallway, into the room at the end. His eyes widened because there were droids before him. A half-dozen skeletal machines stood before him, eyes glowing a sickly red, all had weapons trained on him. The Jedi could not guess what sort, but had no desire to find out. A strange sort of peace enveloped the Jedi, as he relaxed, banishing his fear. The leader of the machines said something in a language Malak did not comprehend. He did not wait for the guns to move up to the killing position; he attacked.

Malak was a good swordsman, not because he was subtle, but because he was strong. He was not a fencer like Revan or a tactical fighter like Valiens Nantaris, he was a soldier. Driven by his iron arm and fierce offensive, his attacks were lethally efficient. The droid leader got no chance to fight before the blue blade had beheaded it. Malak spun right and ducked, the machines were trying to get out of the way. It was the one flaw with all battle droids, presumably even these millennia old ones, they were logical. If there was a chance to hit their comrades, they held their fire as it conflicted with their prime directive. A few could be made to overcome this but not many. Malak lashed out to chop a torso, threw the chassis aside, then bodily slammed another to the ground where it was an easy target.

Malak felt a sharp pain in his side; he had been stabbed by one of the many spiny protrusions on the droid's body. With a roar, the blue blade took another body apart. Then he stopped. Three were left standing and they brought up their guns, opening fire. Malak ducked one and tried to use his blade to parry another. The shock of the impact jarred him, knocking his lightsabre blade almost into his head. As he staggered back, the third machine fired and the blow slammed into the Jedi's leg.

Mirar Levarne resolved not to die in this trap. She smiled grimly as her instincts made her avoid another jet of corrosive acid. She pushed aside her fear and doubt and resolved to do her duty. Quickly, her hands felt for and found a light flare which she activated and threw at the opposite wall. The sharp, spear like tip stuck fast and glowed to reveal the room. Mirar cursed softly, whatever was controlling this room's defences had given up trying to blast her with the acid and now tried to drown her in it. The nearly clear liquid rose from vents in the floor, consuming the slime and bones of the fallen Jedi. Mirar looked around, scrambling onto a fallen block, searching for escape. She had only a few inches before her boots would start to be dissolved. She considered trying the doors but a steady mist of what looked like the corrosive permeated the air and the Jedi had no wish to inhale the killer. Luckily, the Jedi Knight had carried a small breath mask in case the planet had proved unbreathable. Desperately, she put the mask on as the fumes around her started to rise. She needed to escape, but how? Her eyes finally settled on the small crawl space far above her. It was marked with lightsabre marks, evidence that the other Jedi had tried to escape this way. Whether they had succeeded or not could not be told but she did not care. Anything was better than being slowly tormented to death by the corrosive liquid. She had seconds left before the tide reached her, the Jedi acted quickly. She drew her knife, an ordinary steel blade she kept for occasions when a lightsabre was impractical. She threw it; guided by the force, it stuck about five feet above her. It would give her time as she gathered herself, and then, trusting in the force, she jumped.

She caught the knife handle, almost jerking it free but it stuck in the crack. Now she was suspended by a thin steel sliver over certain death. It was hardly reassuring. At least now, however, she had a clear shot at the small ledge over the crawl space. It had been hidden because she had been virtually under it, now she could get up there. Gathering her waning energy, the Jedi Knight hurled herself upwards with the force, catching her hands on the ledge. Hauling herself up, she crawled through the broken vent, and pulled the mask free. Jedi Levarne had escaped.

Revan barely had time to think as he ducked the slicing blade from the golem. He came up with lightsabre ready and countered. The creature parried tirelessly but eventually he missed and Revan drove the blade into its chest. Instead of sparks or even blood, the blade slid off. The Jedi gaped and fell backwards to avoid a scything blow, his weapon ineffective.

Neither fighter spoke as they clashed again. Revan's blade cut again and again past the golem's guard but it no more hindered the foe than an insect. The golem could hurt him though, he had a long slice across the right arm to show that. Revan knew that the creature was tireless, that it would hunt him down, he had to escape. He turned to the door to find it locked. Revan attacked again but the golem seized his hand, ignoring the weapon and squeezed. Bones popped and ground under the hand that felt like an organic vice. Revan managed to contain a cry as the other hand reached for his throat, intent on choking him. The Jedi dropped the useless blade and grappled with the hand; the golem was effortlessly stronger, twisted its grim hold and moved forward. Revan, his end near, relaxed. The power of the force called to him, he decided he had no choice. He did not want to die. The force called to him to fight, to win, to crush this pitiful creature, and the air was thick with the dark tendrils of the dark force. Revan gathered himself and as the ash black hands reached his throat he riposted. The blow was like a giant's fist to the golem. The arm was snatched back and the thing staggered, still gripping Revan's mangled right hand tightly. Revan pulled himself upright as the golem stood, releasing Revan's arm. His limp arm fell to drip blood messily onto the floor, but Revan did not notice.

The golem picked up its blade and brought it down in a killing blow that would have hacked down a rancor. It never landed. Revan held up his hand and seized the sword. Surprised, the creature tried to run the blade back to sever the Jedi's hand. Revan still stared into the golem's eyes, never looking at where his hand should have been cut apart. Then, with one quick movement, Revan threw the blade off and set a crashing invisible strike into the creature. The sword clattered to the ground as the monster recoiled before the onslaught. Revan, nearing exhaustion and collapse from blood loss, sent one final blow into the creature. It stepped back, but there was nowhere to go, only down.

"May my people be avenged upon you, slave," it hissed. Revan was far too tired to notice he had understood the creature's true language. Then it was gone, breaking a walkway far below in its ruin. The Jedi hit the ground, one wrist mangled and the other palm cut open to the bone. The force had guarded him, but not entirely. As he slowly bled, he knew nothing more.

Malak winced from the hammer blow that knocked him back. He did not fall though and remained standing as the machines readied themselves to fire their weapons again. The Jedi ignored his injury and hurled his blade; it spun in a deadly sapphire arc to scythe two machines down. The last was smashed aside by Malak who physically slammed it into the wall, then finished it off with his blade. The droid's shot, from some sort of early blaster weapon, had missed the bone by a half inch, but had still done severe damage to the Jedi. He sighed and covered the burns with salve, bound the wound and hobbled down the hallway and out.

He checked, he saw a body lying just a few yards away, a green lightsabre was still activated on the flagstones. Revan. Malak raced over, deactivating the weapon before kneeling by his friend. The black haired man grunted in pain as Malak jarred his mangled right arm, but at least he lived. The blood had mostly stopped though there was still a lot of it. A few more moments, Malak knew, and his friend would have been lost. The bald man tore open a sterilised bandage he kept and used it to support and bind the wounds.

Revan made not a sound as his friend re-broke his wrist to splint it. The consular looked up at his friend's concerned eyes.

"Thank you my friend. It was too strong."

"What happened?" Malak asked as he tightened the splint. His friend winced and Malak frowned. He saw blood was still oozing out. He had to stop it or his friend would die. Summoning his strength, he poured what power his exhausted mind could conjure into the wound. Revan sighed quietly as the blood clotted and hardened.

"Thank you," he said calmly. He was still in pain, for no use of the force could simply restore such an injury. That would take time, and time was not something they had much of.

"No trouble. What attacked you, Revan?"

"Golem, a creature somehow animated by dark power. It is the guardian. It attacked me." Revan made a half hearted shrug, then relaxed. "Come on, can you raise Mirar on the comm?"

"No answer," Malak said and showed the unresponsive machine to his comrade.

"You have my weapon? It didn't work against the creature."

"It was built to resist them?"

"Perhaps but I think it was far older than the Republic. Come on, let's find this prize and get out of here."

Malak supported his friend, ignoring his own wound but Revan shrugged him off.

"I am fine Hierion, I had nothing to stop the blood loss."

Malak was aghast that his friend was up so quickly and moving. At least the wrist was wrapped, though it would be small comfort if they had to fight once more.

Revan and Malak finally reached the other side of the chasm, gazing back at where they had come from.

"I cannot sense Mirar," Revan said with a slight edge in his voice.

"I'm sure she I fine, come on."

The two Jedi had no time to rest. They had to find their Master, sticking together had been the wisest course after all. It was too late to change anything though, they had to reunite with Mirar.

The great door to the Temple on Xhartque opened. Walking into the hidden city was a man in black robes, his movements illuminated by the ghost light of the dying stars above the planet. He was a tall, good looking man with a pale, hawk like face and cold, blue eyes. The black robe was impeccable in colour, and was fastened over black undergarments. The pendant of the Phoenix, the emblem of the Sith, hung from his neck as he walked along the processional way. At his side was the unmistakable shape of a silver lightsabre hilt, and to one who knew the force, there swirled a dark power about him. He smiled, he could sense his quarry.

Swiftly, the black haired man walked to the centre of the roadway, right to where it fell into darkness. He looked down at the abyssal depths, and smiled. He walked forward, over the edge, but he did not fall. The power of the force was about him as he walked over the bottomless depths, holding him up as easily as he would levitate a stone. Reaching the other side, he walked towards the distant altar.

Mirar dusted herself off and walked along the passages. She was higher than she had thought; down to her right was the altar at the top of the steps. She was just about to begin her descent when she saw the white of bones once more. Knowing it had to be another of the Jedi, she crouched down beside it. This body still had the robe about its shoulders and the bones were firm still. Beside it, and almost lost was a datapad. Mirar crouched down and gently picked up the thin electronic recording device. It still worked and she turned it on and moved to the last entry.

"Kaynard had betrayed us, I should have sensed his anger before we left. The dark side roils in this place, now he has left me. I cannot move much anymore, he wanted to make me suffer it seems. He will be long gone back to the Sith by the time I am dead. It all makes sense now, Parit's death. I should have seen the betrayal but now, I am dying. He has sealed the door and gone back to his masters I wager. Why do I write still? If a Jedi does find this, remember the power of the dark side and let my death have some meaning.

- Jedi Knight Cerin Artvin"

Mirar put it down; so the Jedi had been betrayed? She could see it as likely, so many had turned coats in the Sith War. Now, it had happened again. She looked down to see the Jedi's legs gouged by what must be the mark of a lightsabre. So this Kaynard had betrayed his master and left her to die? She read the passage again, it was not a pleasant thought.

She forgot this as she limped on towards the way down to the altar. She finally came to the wide area with the processional road to her right. He had never realised how large this area was until now. It was nearly a quarter mile across, nearly five hundred and fifty yards of open stonework. She thought she could see Revan and Malak in the distance and made haste towards them. Then, she sensed, only just in time, the new enemy that appeared from in front of her. She was at the foot of the stairs, close to her goal when she stopped.

At the top of the altar was a man. She moved forward, weapon held ready in case she needed to fight. The Jedi Knight was about to call out a challenge, when the tall man turned. Mirar frowned, she knew this man, or at least had met him once.

"Ah, Mirar Levarne. It has been some time," the calm voice called to her.

"Do I know you?" she asked. She was cautious of a trap, and so held her weapon ready.

"Indeed, for we met a few years ago," the Sith stated. "A few years ago over Dathomir, the signing of the treaty," he went on.

"I cannot remember you," Mirar stated, though that was not entirely true. She could remember the face, and the eyes, but not from meeting him. She had seen this man in the archives…and that was distracting.

"I am known as Darth Shadow. I have many names though, child, perhaps you would know me as Quoll Le'vert?" he asked.

The Jedi Knight only just concealed her astonishment, this was the legendary Darth Shadow? Now she remembered meeting him, and seeing him in the archives. Whoever this Sith Lord was, he was unique. Since the time of Marka Ragnos, there had been mention of a Darth Shadow, but most Jedi dismissed it as being a title carried over as time went on. It was only sense, or was it?

"What are you here for?" she demanded, far more certainly than she felt.

"The same thing you are, Jedi," he said and waved to the Heart. "I am here for that. I assume you saw the remains of your comrade, Jedi Artvin?"

Mirar's eyes narrowed. "What do you know of that?" she asked coldly.

"This place has not changed much since I was last here. Kaynard was a good Jedi, but a poor Sith," Shadow stated.

The words sunk in. "You were here?" she asked, clearly showing disbelief.

A small smirk was her answer. "And what of it?" he added. "Time is just a thing. Now, I am taking the heart, it has taken me all these years to think of a way to disable that energy shield over it. You may stand aside, or you will have to die. And that goes for your two Padawans as well, wherever they might be."

Mirar looked at him grimly. "I will not let you take this. The Sith are a menace, and it is the role of the Jedi to maintain order."

"Is it?" Shadow asked. "No, the Jedi tries to police the Republic, but I am a Sith Lord. We are not in the Republic, nor are we at war at the is present time. I think therefore, that it would be wise of you to back away. I do not want to kill you, but I will if you refuse my offer."

"I can't let you do this," she said through gritted teeth and activated her lightsabre. The green light shot out and stood ready. Darth Shadow shook his head.

"Why must humans rush to fight battles they cannot win?" he asked calmly.

"Your overconfidence will be your downfall, Sith," Mirar stated.

"I doubt it, my very young Jedi," the Sith Lord retorted. He held up his weapons, but instead of the red blade she had been expecting, there was a flash of actinic blue that ignited to face the green blade of the Jedi Knight.

Mirar brought her weapon down in a swift cut towards the head of the Sith Lord. Shadow parried her blow and riposted with a slice that nearly disembowelled the Jedi. The battle was fast and furious, but only on Mirar's part. The Sith Lord seemed not even to want to attack, simply defending and feinting.

Mirar locked the blades, but the Sith Lord pushed her backwards so she stumbled at the head of the stairs. As she was off balance, Darth Shadow landed a heavy boot in her stomach, driving her back down the stairs to sprawl in a pained heap halfway down.

The Sith Lord dismissively turned to the altar, examining it for what might power the defence mechanism. Smiling triumphantly, Quoll Le'vert called the power of the force to him, and directed the raw power in a crackling arc directly at the centre of the black stone altar. There was a flash, and the power field faded. The Sith Lord smiled, he had been right all along.

Mirar Levarne got up slowly. She was in pain, awful pain from her chest made every breath an agony. She figured the fall down the stairs had broken a rib, as well and bruising and cutting her all over her body. She force herself up and gripped her lightsabre. The Sith Lord was using his powers on the artefacts, which meant his back was turned. Dishonourable it might be, but the Sith Lord had to be stopped. Even if she did not know what the Heart did, she knew that the Sith getting their hands on it was not a wise idea. She moved up behind him, her weapon ready, then, at the last second, she activated her lightsabre and brought it across to slice the man's back open.

One did not survive as a Sith Lord without knowing when someone was creeping up behind them. And Quoll Le'vert was no ordinary man, he had let the Jedi woman come, let her expose herself, and then he moved. Her vertical slice was easily stopped, and while her blade was uselessly to the side, Darth Shadow used the force to slam her into the wall behind her. As she had cut down, Le'vert had stepped to the side, and he used the wall behind her as a perfect opportunity. The Jedi crashed into the wall, her lightsabre clattered down the stairs, and she could do nothing as the blue blade followed up and stabbed her in the chest….

Revan was running forward, he had finally gained the stair crest, but now he saw disaster. The blue blade stabbed forward once, a gurgling cry and then the Jedi slumped as the sabre was withdrawn. Revan breathed in but showed no reaction otherwise as the Sith Lord turned to him. Malak was still limping forward, yet to reach the stairway, leaving his friend to fight the foe alone.

"So terrible when fools try to be brave," Le'vert said as though he was saddened by the events. His eyes betrayed him though, they showed nothing but contempt.

Revan said nothing but activated his blade using his better hand. "So you come for the Heart."

The Sith Lord cocked his head to one side, the voice had been flat and emotionless. "Of course Siandar. Or should I call you Revan?" He expected surprise or outrage, he was disappointed.

"You may call me either, Sith Lord. It will make no difference to this fight."

Then I will call you Revan. What you shall be if you do not turn aside."

"You killed her," Revan said very quietly.

"Does that make you angry?" Le'vert asked, hoping to tempt his opponent into an ill considered attack.

"I feel nothing," Revan stated in a low voice.

"I expected you to show something at your Master's death."

"Did you? I could not prevent it, so my feelings mean nothing."

The black haired head nodded, he truly did look a little like Revan, though neither would ever admit to as much. "You are wiser than most of your kind. I give you the same choice I gave her, stand aside or die."

"Then it shall have to be my death, Sith. You will beat me I have no doubt but I will not stand aside."

Le'vert was impressed, amused and intrigued by the calm words. "Perhaps you may have made a fine enemy one day, Revan. But now we'll never know, will we?"

No matter how good Revan was, he could not fight the Sith Lord with only one hand. Le'vert pressed the attack and then with a flourish, swept his foe's blade aside. The lightsabre clattered across the ground to lodge near one of the pillars. Revan jumped back, but tripped on a raised flagstone. The move took him under the slice that would have opened his throat. A desperate roll to the side helped him avoid a downward stab though it jarred the broken wrist agonisingly. Revan tried to get up but the Sith Lord gave him no chance, he held out his hand, palm towards the Jedi.

The blow could have been stopped by Revan normally, but now the invisible hand slammed him backward and over the edge. Into the abyss.

Quoll Le'vert looked over the edge but could see no sign, evidently the boy had fallen to his death. The Sith Lord walked to where the Heart was seated. He sheathed his lightsabre and grasped it. Barring a faint tingle, the Sith Lord felt nothing, so he hefted the object and walked down the stairs.

The third Jedi was there, he was a bald headed brute, taller even than the Sith Lord, and easily strong enough to beat almost any man bare fisted.

"Ah, Jedi, I was just leaving," Darth Shadow said calmly.

Malak looked at the Sith Lord, then at his fallen Master, and then to where his friend had been. He activated his blue blade, hissing as pressure was put on his injured leg.

"I will kill you!" Malak said, his anger rising to a dangerous pitch.

Darth Shadow considered fighting the brute, but decided against it, he had the Heart, had slain one, or maybe two Jedi. With a sigh, he set the Heart down and faced the Jedi.

Malak came forward and brought his blue blade down like an axe. Darth Shadow parried effortlessly, and then launched a series of quick slices and cuts to drive his foe off balance. The Jedi was a better swordsman than his two companions, and the Sith Lord did not want to be drawn into a long fight. Using the force he attacked, the hit the bald man with a telekinetic blow that sent him stumbling backwards. Darth Shadow levitated the Heart from the ground, turned and walked away.

"Come back here, coward! Come and die!" Malak roared. The dark residue was making his skin tingle, urging him to chase the coward down and take him apart. Then a voice called.

It was a weak voice from Malak's left, he turned but could see nothing. Moving over and looking down, he saw his friend. Revan was a mess, in an effort to hold on he had grabbed the stonework with his right hand. His lips were bloody where he had bitten down to stop a cry of pain. Even at this time, his pride, rather than the fear of alerting the Sith was the reason. Now, his bloody form was hanging perilously over the pit. Malak deactivated his weapon, then used his brutal strength to lift Revan onto the stone floor.

Once Revan was secure, Malak moved over to where his Master lay propped against the wall. Malak was shocked to hear a slight intake of breath from his Master.

"Master?" he asked, shaking her head slightly.

A tired eye opened to look at her Padawan. "Hierion…I am sorry," she said in a distant voice.

"No, Master, I couldn't get here fast enough. I'm so sorry!" he said. He cursed himself for his slowness, for not stopping Revan charging off.

"This fate was foreordained, I knew I would not come back," she said, her eyes slowly losing focus.

"Master?" Malak asked. "What can I do now? You were all I had," he said in a broken voice.

A small smile touched her blueing lips. "You will be a great Jedi, Malak. Look after yourself, and look after Revan." She gripped the younger man's hand tightly. "Tell…Nantaris…He has made me proud," she gasped out.

"Hang on, Mirar, I can save you," Malak said and reached for a medical pack.

A hand stopped him, it was covered in blood, for although the lightsabre had cauterised the wound, the blood was now flowing out once more. "Leave it, Malak. I know…when it is time." She leaned her head back.

"Master?" Malak asked.

It was too late though, Mirar Levarne was dead, her gentle face fouled by the blood which had spilled from her mouth. Malak leaned forward, his eyes misted and very gently closed her staring eyes. Revan would take the loss hard, he was sure. Of all the Jedi around him, Mirar Levarne was the only one he had confided in. Even that small show of trust had taken until just a few years before the present. Revan now trusted no one but himself.

Malak looked at the ruined body, and then he went to break his friend's heart.

The air, despite being controlled and recycled, was still fresh. The metal walls around Malak were as hidden as possible considering that they were bare metal. The big man still had a slight limp and the leg itself was still bandaged, but it was not a serious injury. They said that in a few days he would be fine to walk properly once more. Revan however, was in a far worse state; it was not his injury though that was the problem. The broken wrist was easily splinted and the cut on the left hand bandaged. It had been the death of his Master that had affected him. Mirar Levarne had been the only person he had taken into his confidence, that seemed to be a rare honour indeed considering he had never told Malak anything personal. In the three years they had fought beside one another, they had been friends but not close beyond that. When Malak had told his friend of Mirar's death, he had expected anger or even some sort of sorrow. Instead, Revan had just nodded; it was like he had known what would happen. He had said perhaps a dozen words on the way back. Now they were here, on Taramooren, recovering their strength until they could return to Coruscant. It had not been an easy trek out of the temple, especially bearing the body of their Master, but they had done it.

Malak knocked on the door to the room, and there was a hiss as it slid open. Malak frowned in disapproval as he walked in to see his friend sitting at a table. Revan was writing something, but when his fellow Jedi had fully entered the room, he waved his hand at the door. The entrance closed again and locked, the bald headed Malak tried to keep a disapproving frown off his face.

"You wanted something Hierion?" Revan asked stiffly. This return to the proper name of his friend was incomprehensible and Malak had no clue how to deal with it. He did not mind either name really, but was now so used to his title that his real name seemed out of place.

"I came to see if you were alright. You have not left this room since we got back four days ago."

"I have had not reason to. I am feeling as well as I did two hours and eight minutes ago when you last checked." The voice was so ordered, controlled, like Revan was running on automatic pilot. Malak had never seen anything like it.

"I was thinking we would leave tomorrow, Revan."

"That is the wisest course," Revan said, not looking up from his work.

Malak knew that going on further would be a mistake. He wanted to keep talking to his friend though; he needed to know why his comrade was acting so strangely.

"Do you think we will meet the Sith Lord again?"

Revan looked up briefly, his face showed nothing but a cold mask. "I believe that it is likely, Hierion. Is there anything else?"

"Do you want revenge?" Malak blurted out. In truth though, he admitted to himself that he wanted to see if he could push his friend into familiar ground.

"No. Revenge will solve nothing. If I get a chance to kill him, then he will die, I promise you that. I will not hunt him down though. What did you want me to say?" he asked, noting the shocked look on Malak's face.

"I don't know. I just… I don't know."

"Go Hierion, I will be ready tomorrow."

"As you wish, Revan," Malak said and backed away. He had to open the door himself, but it closed as soon as he was out. Locked out, just like he was out of his friend's mind. Malak sighed and slowly walked away.

Inside the room where he had been quartered, Revan sighed. He was not angry exactly, he was not even saddened by the whole tragic affair. What depressed him is that he should have felt even some anger or sorrow, but he felt nothing. The training of a Jedi might tell him that emotion was the enemy to rational thought, but he had never believed it. No, it was all in himself, he simply could not muster the necessary energy to feel it. And it was that which was driving him crazy.

The young Jedi stood and stretched his left arm out, his ability to use the force was undiminished, and for that he was grateful. His right hand was encased in a substance the medic had told him would help the bone heal, Revan had had no choice but to believe him. The temptation to call upon the force was ever present; since his defeat of the guardian in the tomb, he had been tempted with the power. Finally, Revan could bear it no longer, he opened the door with a gesture and stalked out into the hallway. Republic and Troiken soldiers scattered from his path as he swept down the hallways, and his gait was steady and strong despite his bandaged hands.

Second Lieutenant Julius Solon was on the bridge when Revan approached him. The soldier was giving orders to the scanner crews, anticipating his departure tomorrow back to Troiken. Solon disliked the border station with its sparse amenities and even sparser excitement. As he turned back to walk from the command centre he saw the Jedi with the injured hand. He had been the most polite of the Jedi and he sympathised with the man's loss so he decided to let the man talk.

"Lieutenant Solon, yes?" the Jedi asked.

"Yes sir, Revan. How is the hand?"

"Better that it was," Revan was making a mighty effort to be civil.

"I am sorry for your loss, Jedi," Solon said. He had been told that a Jedi's Master was like a parent to them, but he had never paid much attention to it. He had never liked the Jedi, and although this Revan was slightly better, he was still cold and arrogant.

"It was her fate to fall against the Sith," Revan said softly.

"She was killed by the Sith?" Solon asked. The Jedi here and on Coruscant had been tight lipped about what had happened, or even why the Jedi had come. This silence infuriated Solon and the station's Commander who had tried to find out what had happened in case it happened again.

Revan was aware that he said something that he should have avoided. Then he considered that the Republic deserved to know even more than the Order did. After all, they would have to fight the Sith eventually. Revan was not sure what power the Daemon's Heart possessed but it could not be good.

So the Jedi nodded, "Yes it was. A Sith Lord named Quoll Le'vert appeared there and attacked us."

Revan saw the man's eyes open in shock. The Jedi's ability to sense emotions told him the soldier was shocked by something he had said. "What is it Lieutenant?" Revan asked patiently.

"I know of this Sith Lord. My friend, he was almost killed by him. He told me about him. Black hair, tall, regal."

Revan nodded, he was surprised though he did not show it. "Yes, that is the one. I know nothing of him."

Solon debated as to whether he should tell the Jedi what he knew. Then he realised that any Cadet knew what he was about to say. "The Sith are controlled by a council of nine Sith Lords. The greatest is the Dark Lord, the ruler who can overrule the others in times of need. Quoll Le'vert is one of them, I assume, or perhaps the apprentice of one of them."

Revan thought about that. It made sense that the Sith had sent a competent man to fetch this treasure. Mirar Levarne was no slouch with a lightsabre and had not scratched the man once.

"I never knew that. They do not teach us much about the Sith."

"We fight them every day out here. It's an undeclared war that's been going on since the last Sith War. Sometimes it flares up, then it dies. The Troiki always have the worst of it. It has been good for a few years but we cannot relax our guard."

Revan learned something else he did not know; Troiki was evidently the name of the people of that state. He felt confused now, like an ignorant man among professors.

"I thank you, Lieutenant."

"It's hardly classified knowledge Jedi," Solon said cheerfully. "Any man with a Republic uniform could tell you that."

"I see. Thank you, I, I must go."

Second Lieutenant Solon watched the man go and frowned; what did the Jedi teach their Padawans these days? Evidently, not much.

Revan seemed to be in a better mood to Malak's eyes on the next day when they departed. Rather than taking the body of their Master back to Coruscant, she would be buried with full honours on board the station. The Jedi would take just her weapon, robe and necklace she had worn back to be interred in the Hall of Remembrance in the Jedi Temple. Now the two Jedi stood as the black metal of the coffin was loaded into a small drone ship set to be decommissioned. The room they were in looked over the planet of Taramooren, a barren world where no men lived. Second Lieutenant Solon was the overseer of the ceremony, commanding the ten soldiers of the Republic Fifty First Infantry Division. Malak stood impassive and quiet but Revan put his injured hand over his heart and bowed his head. If his friend disapproved, he did not mention as much.

"A brave defender of the Republic shall never be forgotten if they held true to the ideals of liberty, freedom and peace." Solon's voice read from an invisible script as the soldiers presented their weapons. The tone was non-committal, almost as though the Lieutenant hardly even realised the words he was speaking.

"May light protect you, Master," Revan muttered softly.

"The final and only dedication we can give such an ally is to consume them in the flame of one of the worlds they stood to protect. May the remembrance of the Republic be ever upon you."

Solon gave the signal and the Sergeant in charge of the cremation stepped forward and activated the controls. There was a hiss, and then the decommissioned ship was fired out of the airlock into space. For a moment it slowly grew smaller until finally, it hit the atmosphere of the planet below. There was a flash of flame, then nothing.

"Burial party, dismissed," Solon barked. The party saluted the now empty airlock and left the deck. Solon walked slowly to meet the two Jedi. "I am sorry, she seemed like a good person."

"She was Lieutenant, but in war, even the best die. Too often they die first. I thank you though."

Malak forced himself to add some words to his friend's. "Thank you Lieutenant. May the force be with you."

"And with you, Jedi. Now, if you will excuse me," he said, saluted and then was gone.

Revan sighed, "What do we do now?"

"We go back to the Temple. We will inter her items in the vault."

"And what exactly did she die for? For an item that we do not know was of any value? For a piece of stone that lured us into that bitter trap? Tell me Malak, why are we standing here?"

"We had to try and find out what was there," Malak explained patiently.

"But we failed just the same. Now she is dead. I should have gone quicker to her aid."

"You would have been defeated the same. And it might have been me alone, or none of us standing here."

"But I could have tried. There was so much for me still to learn."

"You once said your fate was fixed. If this was her fate, and yours, why do you plague yourself?"

"Just because something is set, does not mean I have to like it, Malak. Do you not understand? She was all I had."

"She was our teacher, nothing more Revan," Malak said calmly as they walked back to the hanger. He noticed that his title had reappeared but made no issue of it.

"Nothing more? She was the only person I ever felt close to." Revan sighed and shook his head. "She died for nothing, all because of me."

"You would have accepted an exchange of places?"

"Yes, because it would not be me standing here."

"That is selfish, think of the Jedi Code-" Malak tried.

"Damn the code!" Revan snarled.

"Revan, please be calm," Malak pleaded. "Such thoughts lead to the dark side my friend. What is done is done. Would she want you to throw your life away for nothing?"

The black haired man shook his head slowly, "No, I suppose not. That does not mean that I have to like it."

"You are human Revan, it is natural to feel sorrow and anger. But we are Jedi, we must control this lest it blind us from our goals."

"It is so much more complicated than I thought. The Jedi teach us nothing about this. How to deal with it."

"We must look to each other and the Order for support. Remember the tale of those who fell in the war with the Sith."

"Yes, if only the Council had seen fit to warn us. We found no trace of the dead Jedi did we?" Revan asked, oblivious of what his now dead Master had discovered.

"No, perhaps it was nothing."

"Thank you Malak, sometimes it is just…never mind."

"I am here to help you as much as I can."

"Come on, they will be waiting for us to leave."

Of the two, Revan was the better pilot, but Malak sensed his friend needed time to recover his focus. Besides, Revan was hurt and would not be able to use his right hand for several weeks yet. Malak should have needed time himself, but in truth he felt he did not need it. Was it his Jedi training? Or was it that he had never really felt much for anyone else? Whatever the reason, the bald warrior did not feel especially sad about her passing. As he guided the _Spirit of Ossus_ out of the hanger, Malak thought about how much he had been through and survived as a Jedi, and wondered what fate had in store for him.

The small craft exchanged pleasantries with one of the massive ships that guarded the border station.

Then, once they were safely out of any gravity silhouette, Malak threw the ship into hyperspace. The stars streaked past, the ships jerked back and then they were moving through space towards the next checkpoint. It would take four stops and twelve days to reach Coruscant going at this rate. Taramooren was relatively close to the core worlds and thus the time of travel was small compared with the other trade lanes between the rim and the core.

Once they had their course safely set, Malak relaxed.

"We are locked on Revan. We should be back in two weeks."

The ship streaked on towards Coruscant.

The full Council chamber was an impressive room. It was a room near the very top of the Temple, set with a near uninterrupted view all around. The only thing that obstructed view was the four minarets which had been set at the compass points. The white room was circular in shape with a wide and luxurious balcony surrounding the room so the Jedi could step outside to feel the air and see the stars. For such an industrial planet, the upper portions of Coruscant were not polluted. Learning from bitter mistakes in the past, the Republic had constructed power plants run by what would have poisoned the air in other circumstances. This power was fed into minor, non-critical tasks and played an important role in keeping the planet liveable.

Inside the room was a half circle dominating one side of the room. This was the elevator by which visitors and council members would reach this exalted level. The council members sat facing the entrance; six for Coruscant and the heads of the other six training facilities across the galaxy. Now there was just three Jedi in the room, sitting and waiting. Jedi master Aetius Perinard sat beside Master Vandar. As agreed joint heads of the Order, the two Masters held a great deal of power and were called upon to negotiate with the Republic officials. Perhaps with good reasons, the Republic did not fully trust the Jedi, they would talk only to a select chosen group of the Jedi. The last of the Masters in the room was a good looking, tall and broad man in his forties. Jedi Master Telenoth In'kare was one of the youngest members on the Council, but that did not diminish his abilities. Of all the Jedi, he was the one the Republic most trusted in regards to the Order's position on matters of state. His black hair glinted in the light of the sun coming through the windows and his eyes were a deep hazel. He was a darker skinned man than most of his fellows and well liked by Jedi and citizen alike.

The three Jedi often came to this high room to talk about the affairs of the Order, and this day was like any other to the Jedi.

"I received a message from Admiral Dietal about developments to the south," Master In'kare was saying. Admiral Dietal was the commander of the First Fleet whose area of operations was the mid and inner rims.

"I am more concerned about news of the north. The Sith are moving again, there can be no doubt about that."

"But do they seek to draw us into war? We do not know their motives or reasons. Have we heard from the Republic on this matter?" Vandar asked.

"I have heard nothing out of the usual. It is the view of Admiral Nivelle that the Sith are trying to provoke us. We know that they covert the Wyl Sector which they lost in the last war." In'kare spoke reasonably. He was the man who would know the councils of the Republic best.

"So they will try to cause dissent by provoking a response. They nearly succeeded a few years ago," Vandar added, recalling the minor war three years before.

"So what have you heard from the south, In'kare?" Perinard asked.

"I have heard that beyond the border there are strange occurrences, planets raided and destroyed by an unknown foe. Of the civilians and refugees that try to enter the Republic, most are turned away, but a few are allowed in."

"Has the Republic done anything about this?" Vandar asked in his soothing voice.

"They can't. Those systems attacked are outside the Republic. Even if they were not, there is no reason to suspect a threat to us."

"No reason?" Perinard asked softly. "Is not the fact that an enemy is attacking worlds, however neutral, a future danger?"

"The settled worlds in that area are few. Any enemy will think twice before attacking the Republic. There are two entire Sector Fleets stationed down there."

"Who are these attackers? Vandar asked.

"I am told that it may be survivors of the Mandalorian Clans. At the end of the last war, most dispersed to outside Republic Space. Perhaps some still fight on." In'kare had personally inspected the border areas. In fact, the Republic treated him with great respect, perhaps because he was the only Jedi with any military sense.

"But surely their entire nation was not destroyed? They must have a base somewhere?"

"Not that we have discovered. Once a traveller goes beyond the border there are no mapped areas, no nations. There could be anything out in the wastes of space." The two other Jedi noticed that In'kare referred to himself as past of the Republic. It was an interesting turn of phrase.

"And what of the Sith? The watch cannot be lessened. If given the chance, the Empire will try to expand."

"This is true Master Perinard. The Sith political system is based, fundamentally, on conflict. At the moment they are stable but all it takes is a new Dark Lord and they may decide to fight."

"I cannot believe they have enough resources to think they can defeat the Republic," Perinard said.

In'kare, wiser in the ways of politics, put in next. "They do not need to defeat the Republic. They need only to avoid defeat themselves. If they can fight the Navy to a stalemate, they might get what they want."

Aetius Perinard looked about to object but before he could, the communicator buzzed.

"This is Jedi Master Vandar," the non-human said calmly.

"Master, Padawans Revan and Malak have arrived in the hanger."

"Send them up as soon as they are able."

"Yes Master," the voice vanished, and Vandar put the communicator down.

"We have another matter to discuss. What shall we do with the two Padawans?"

"Jedi Levarne was killed from what I have heard," Perinard said, his silver eyes flashing slightly.

In'kare looked a little disturbed, but he controlled it quickly. "That is sad news indeed. She always was a bright pupil."

"And well liked and respected on Morlock Four," Vandar said, nodding. "That is why we brought her here. To teach Siandar and Hierion."

"Is that their names? Who are Revan and Malak?" In'kare had been away so long from Coruscant that he had never heard of the two.

"They take aliases for themselves. Siandar Morantine calls himself Revan, Hierion Tsrvarn has the title of Malak. They have resisted all attempts to discourage these titles."

"I have not met them. Do they live up to their Master?"

Vandar smiled slightly, Mirar Levarne had been a very close student of In'kare. He had not been her Master but had helped her in the first years that she had been a Jedi Knight.

"Revan is a little unpredictable. His heart is full of doubt and his mind with thoughts that disturb him. He might be a good Jedi one day if he could control his emotions."

"Perhaps that is not the right way of describing it, Master Vandar," Perinard put in. "Young Siandar Morantine, that is his real name, has too little emotion sometimes. In times of crisis, he becomes cold. There are several times when we suspect he killed or coerced but we have no proof. I hope that this is not the first sign of a fall."

"He has a good heart and is very idealistic," Vandar added in defence of the younger man.

"But is he ready to become a Knight?" In'kare asked.

Vandar considered for a long moment. It was a difficult question for the diminutive Jedi Master, one which needed a good deal of thought. On one hand, the Jedi Master considered that Siandar, or Revan as he called himself, was unpredictable. Perhaps he needed guidance, more training and more time to become a fully prepared Knight. There was a problem though, Revan had formed a bond with his Master, one that was unusually strong and resistant. Now that Mirar Levarne was dead, Vandar knew in his heart he could not produce a new Master. Or at least, he could, but Revan would not gain from it. Vandar made his decision.

"I wish to speak to Revan before I make a final judgement. I think though that he has learned all he can as a Padawan. Having him remain will mean finding a Master for him, and considering the bond between him and his former Master, I am doubtful. I am doubtful of whether we would be doing more harm or good."

"You make a good point Vandar. Revan is a brave man, but he is nearly twenty six. If he needed further training then I would not hesitate to assign him a Master. I think though, that he has learned all he can. I do not think he is ready to take a learner of his own." Perinard's monotone voice did not change in volume and pitch through all his words.

Vandar nodded his agreement with the words. "I concur with that. And I think this is the best solution, in time he will gain the experience necessary to become a proper Master."

"And what of the other Padawan? Malak?" the name was a question as In'kare was not certain he had heard right.

"I think that he is an easier case. He does not have the natural command of the force that Revan does. However, he is firm in his beliefs, strong in his conviction and capable of acting on his own." Vandar was quiet insistent as he spoke, showing he had given the matter much thought.

The short black hair of In'kare ruffled in a slight breeze, evidence that the lift was ascending to this high floor. "I think that if he was given a position here as a teacher alongside one of the Masters. Perhaps even in the archives for now. Part of his time of course, the rest training and performing missions for us. The wisdom gained in the library will be tempered with experience in the field."

"I consent," Perinard said and bowed his head. The platinum coloured hair flowed down his face as he did so.

"We will inform the council of our decision," Vandar agreed.

In cases such as this, only three Masters needed to consent. If Mirar Levarne had still been alive, her view was the deciding opinion. This case was not a matter for the full council, though it would be relayed to them in due time.

The elevator door slid open to reveal the two young Jedi. Revan and Malak, both twenty four years old but both possessing much experience, looked far older. Revan's right arm was still splinted and bandaged from the broken wrist he had suffered. Malak on the other hand, had only a light bandage visible through his trousers and was barely limping. The two men bowed their heads respectfully to the three Jedi Masters.

"A good day to you, Padawans. Although I am pleased to see you alive, I am grieved to hear of your Master's death." Aetius Perinard spoke in his calm but still commanding voice.

"My thanks Masters. Perhaps the only consolation is that we helped unearth the Sith plot."

"So the Sith Lord escaped with the Heart?" Vandar asked.

"Yes, a powerful dark side artefact," Malak answered.

"Strange that he should be there just when you are, yes? In all the times in the last hundred years, he happened to choose this day?" In'kare, a Jedi neither Padawan knew spoke thoughtfully.

"You suspect a traitor?" Perinard asked.

"How else can it be accounted for? Someone must have sold out to the Sith."

"One of the Republic officers on the station?" Perinard inquired.

"Or someone closer to home?" In'kare mused.

"Are you saying you suspect a Jedi?" Master Perinard asked, shocked by the thought.

"This is not unknown. Indeed Exar Kun and many others betrayed us." That was Vandar, speaking very thoughtfully.

"We should consider this later," Perinard decided firmly.

"Yes indeed, the Padawans will be wanting rest after their exertions. Is your wound recovering, Padawan Morantine?" Vandar asked. He was hurriedly moving the conversation on so that the thought of treachery would not be remembered.

"It is, Master, the Republic medics said it would be fine in a month."

In'kare, more knowledgeable about battlefield injuries than his two companions nodded. "You were fortunate that the blood veins were not broken. You should recover in time. See Master Alii'sd in the medical wing and ask if she can help." The Jedi had a well known hospital that was run by the ancient Jedi Master Alii'sd. She was a non-human whose deep knowledge of medicine commanded respect.

"I will do that Master." It seemed that Revan thought the meeting was over, because he bowed and looked ready to leave.

"Stay for a moment, Padawans, please," Vandar asked kindly. "I have read your statements that you wrote and sent off at one of your stop points. I was impressed by the humility, the simple display of the facts. Even to one such as I, I see that you have learned much of our ways and of the galaxy. Though I was at first doubtful where your path led, Padawan Morantine, I will not doubt that you have learned much. The way of the Jedi is long and arduous but you have begun well. I and the Council have reviewed your progress and are considering whether you are suitable to continue your path."

Both men understood the elder Jedi's words. Malak kept a stoic silence whilst Revan tried to protest.

"Masters, I do not know if I am ready. I mean-" he was cut off by a wave from Perinard.

"We understand that taking the next step will not be easy. Indeed, we are here as much to council Knights as we are Padawans."

"A Knight?" Malak was astonished.

"A Knight is a Jedi who has passed through the trials and whose Master believes is ready."

"Then that is why she was testing us?" Revan asked with a small smile.

"I am surprised that you saw that," Perinard said dryly.

Revan looked over at Malak who was glaring suspiciously at him. "She did not make it obvious. But she never finished though, did she?"

Jedi Master Vandar smiled thinly, and his large eyes seemed to glow dimly. "As a matter of fact, Padawan, she did. I have here a message, an evaluation in case she did not survive the mission. An appraisal if you like, of her students."

The three Masters had the brief satisfaction of seeing Revan taken aback. The man quickly composed himself but his surprise had been obvious and genuine.

In'kare turned to the shorter Jedi. "And what, Master Vandar, did it say?"

The Jedi Master leaned forward and set the holographic recorder on the table before him, and then activated it. The ghostly blue and white image of Mirar Levarne, about a foot high appeared. She seemed to smile nervously, as though she was not used to using such a machine.

"If you are listening to this recording, then it is likely that I have joined the force. I make this in a desire to help my young students achieve whatever they can. Though I cannot be there in person, I would like to express my opinion. Padawans Revan and Malak have followed every guide I have asked, completed every task set. There is, in my opinion, no more they can learn from me. If it counts for anything, I consider them ready for what lies ahead." The small figure smiled. "If I do not return, my students, good fortune. May the force be with you." Mirar made a gesture and the image faded, leaving four of the room's five occupants surprised.

Vandar was not surprised though, almost as though he had expected it.

Revan was controlling his emotions barely as the image faded. She had meant a lot to him and now she was gone, he did not know how to react.

"So what is your opinion Masters?" he asked dully.

The Jedi shared a look at the depressed tone. "We believe that you have done all that we desire necessary to become a full Knight. You still have much to learn though, so you will not take a learner of your own until we say you are ready." Vandar's voice was almost hypnotic as he spoke slowly and carefully.

"As you wish, Master."

Malak showed a small smile on his normally stern face, "Thank you, Master."

Aetius Perinard stood and walked forward. "With the authority of the Jedi Council and the advice of your late Master, we bestow upon you the rank of Jedi Knights."

"Thank you, Master," Revan said, pleased despite himself.

"Then go and get cleaned up, we shall perform the ceremony in two standard hours," In'kare commanded.

The Padawans bowed and left the room, leaving the Jedi Masters alone.

"Is this the right course?" Perinard asked after a moment.

"The future changes with every decision we do or do not make. I cannot see where it ends, though I think this may be the better course of action," Vandar said gravely.

"I fear you are right. He will be great one day, if he allows himself to be," In'kare said.

"That is what worries me," Perinard said softly, then he rose and head for the door. No more was said; they all shared the same thought.

The ceremony was simple enough, though it was still formal. Once, the Jedi knighting ceremony had been formal, but now it was a simple function carried out in one of the halls. The room was large and airy, with afternoon sunlight streaming in from many windows around the room. Revan and Malak stood in the centre of the floor, the tiles were decorated with a swirling red and blue pattern. They had waited for a good ten minuted but now, at last, the door opened. Master Vandar, together with Jedi Knight Karlian Dorak and an unknown Jedi Master. She was a vaguely humanoid creature in appearance with green skin and a multitude of tendrils hanging down the back of the head. The Jedi smiled and took her place next to Vandar. The small Master was surprisingly quick despite his small height and old age. He moved forward, the dark skinned Dorak taking his left side.

Revan bowed his head, then looked to Dorak. He had met the man who was hoping to eventually become the Jedi Archivist. The soon to be promoted Jedi Knight however, did not like the man. He supposed though that he had to put up with his presence in the ceremony. Perhaps sensing the dislike the younger man felt for him, Dorak smiled, he was an easy going man who followed the code religiously. He had been raised to the rank of Knight the year before, taking joint control of the Jedi Archives at the same time.

"I have consulted with the Council, Siandar. They fully endorse our first decision. It was well that your Master left such a message."

"I did not ask her to, nor would I have done so. I trust her wisdom in this matter. If she sees that I am ready Master, then I will try to fulfil that legacy."

Vandar nodded, the boy was exceedingly tactful, sometimes to a fault. "I sense great pride in you Siandar, let go of this emotion or it will consume you. You connection to your Master was always very strong Siandar. Use that still, though she is no longer here. Draw upon the force for guidance, for what she believed in."

Revan would normally have brushed off such words with his usual polite tact. Something the older Jedi had said though had affected him though. "I will not fail Master. I will not have her memory destroyed by my failure. She trusted me, and I will try to keep that trust."

The green skinned Jedi frowned. She was obviously unused to Revan's strange proclamations. Vandar seemed unmoved though.

"Do not let that oath turn you Siandar," the Jedi Master cautioned.

Revan did not seem upset, just distant and cold. "It is not a promise or an oath Master. I will do what I can to fight for what I believe in."

Vandar turned to Malak who had to look down about two feet to see the Master.

"Hierion Tsrvarn; your dedication to the Jedi Order is well known. We have all seen your calmness, your determination to follow the path of the light."

"I have tried, Master, to follow the lead of the council. I bow to the will of the Masters."

Vandar seemed content with the shorter conversation. He knew well that Malak was not a man for long conversations. Vandar turned to Dorak and nodded.

The younger man unwrapped a bundle he was carrying and put the cloth wrapping aside. Inside were two white sash like objects. The white cloth was woven with silver and blue threat to create a shining mosaic of light as they moved. The green Jedi took the second band and slipped it over Revan's uninjured shoulder and down to hang bright in the sun's radiance. Dorak did likewise to Malak, having to stand full stretch to look the cloth over the tall man's head. The white, silver and azure of the symbols of the Knight contrasted with the dull brown of the robes they wore. Even Revan had been persuaded to wear the traditional robes instead of his blue and black creation.

"I name you, with the authority of the Council, to be Jedi Knights of the Order." Vandar's words were fine and imposing, more suited for a crowd than this small room. It had the desired effect though, the two new Jedi Knights bowed and straightened up.

Vandar smiled very slightly as both men tried to hide their amusement and pleasure. They had earned their right to wear the old fashioned cloth strips. The Jedi Master could only hope that they lived long enough to keep it. Vandar did have to give credit though; Mirar Levarne had done a good job. She had been overseeing the eight trials that a Padawan must pass to become a Knight through the last few months. All of them had been passed successfully, it seemed.

The Master was surprised that Revan had caught on but he knew that he would.

"Now, for what happens now. Siandar; tomorrow you will meet with Master In'kare. He has a plan and a place for you to go. Hierion; you will talk to Master Raalier Lvov, the head of the library." Malak frowned at the words but made no protest. "It will only be to see where your skills will be needed," Vandar said soothingly. Malak relaxed.

"Is there anything else?" Vandar asked.

There was nothing more to add, the new Jedi Knights bowed and left the room.

"I will see that Master Lvov knows all she needs," Dorak said.

"Yes, do that. I will talk to In'kare."

Jedi Valiens Nantaris jumped down from his ship and crossed the landing pad of the Jedi Order's base on Morlock Four. It was a ramshackle little enclave with only a few dozen students and teachers. Morlock Four was a base far away from trouble, in the western part of the galaxy. It was a safe place, for no enemy in the last six hundred years had threatened this small outpost. Around the base was the grassy, forested plains that made up this small, dull world.

Valiens Nantaris was not thinking about the forests or plains, only about his recent elevation to Jedi Knight. The Jedi had acted with great initiative and skill, and had broken up several pirating slavers in the area to the south. Such a move, and his passing of the trials ensured that he was made a Jedi Knight. He smiled and walked down the stairs to his room. It was a wide room, one of the better places to stay at the base, and though he was not on Morlock Four permanently, he had a nicer room than most.

Entering, he activated his holo-communicator. He had a message, from Malak, no less. Nantaris frowned, he did not like Malak, did not like him at all, and the feeling was mutual, he was sure.

"Padawan Nantaris," the voice began. The newly made Jedi Knight smirked at being made a Knight before the bald headed man. "I have bad news. My Master, Mirar Levarne is dead. Before she died, she wanted you to know she was proud of you. May the force be with you," Malak's monotone voice finished and cut the communicator.

Nantaris shook his head in shock, and pain. "No, no, this isn't true," he said softly. He knew it was…Mirar was dead? It was unthinkable that his friend, his saviour…was slain. Sadness broke down the walls of happiness that had arisen. She had been proud of him? That was all he had hoped to do for her, to make her not ashamed for what she had done for him. The Jedi Knight stared at the wall, the good always died first, he thought. He sighed, and went to get a shuttle to Coruscant.

It was a week later. Jedi Malak and Revan walked down the dark stairs to the cavernous room.

With power came responsibility. Unfortunately for the Jedi, it came with a price. The remembrance hall of the Jedi was a series of rooms that held the remains or possessions of those Jedi who had fallen. All Jedi who died in the line of duty earned the right to have a place here. And because they were still lost to the Jedi, those who fell to the Dark Side were also represented here. Though, in that case, their places were marked as such. Mirar Levarne counted in the first group and so would have her most valuable items interred along with so many others.

Seven thousand, eight hundred and nineteen Jedi had fallen in the last half century, when the room's concept was created. That room had been on Ossus and in the panic to evacuate its fall, only the most precious items escaped. Now, those Jedi had been lost physically but their names had been recovered. It was an awe-inspiring, and strangely terrible place. It was cold, dark and filled with shadows that seemed never to dissipate. The room seemed so out of place in the Jedi Temple, but it was here, in the bowels of the building.

Revan followed the Jedi Knight whose job was to watch the entrance and chronicle the contents of the room. It was a large room; sixteen feet high and hundreds of feet long. Many of the places, too many, were taken by the fallen, but there were scores still in every direction. Revan finally reached the destination, one of the small stone shelves set into the wall. The shelves were about a foot long and six inches high; hollow and deep. A small slate lay in each one, bearing the name and title of the fallen Jedi. Revan considered that datapads did have a limited life expectancy and so something solid and real should take their place. Still, it seemed as archaic as this room looked, the dark stone contrasting with the rest of the Jedi Temple. Thirty of these containers ranged from the floor almost to the low, flat ceiling.

"Thirteenth up," the Knight imperiously commanded.

That meant that it was about eye level for Malak and higher for Revan. Malak delicately took the brown cloth robe, folded it and slid it into the hollow stone. The lightsabre followed next. The power cell had been removed but the crystals remained, as it would be an insult to remove them. Lastly, the small, round amulet she had worn about her neck was pushed in.

Malak took the small slate and wrote with great care, "Mirar Levarne, Jedi Knight."

Revan bowed his head, and then looked around at the countless other filled places. Each symbolised a master or student dead or lost, each showed another family that had to be told of the death of their kin. The affect, and the realisation that many more of these spaces would soon be occupied, made Revan shudder. Would he end up here?

The new Jedi Knight turned without a word and stalked from the room, leaving Malak alone with the last of the Knights. Alone, in the tomb of the Jedi.

* * *

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